A/N: So, finally chapter two. Chapter three is almost done. Chapter four shouldn't be too hard to write, but you never know. Then I'll be free. Free to focus on the two big fics I've started. Hope you all like this chapter. I think I stayed in character with Adam but then I could be wrong. Anyway, enjoy and review. Alexandri.

"Oh. My." Joan gaped at the stage as she leaned toward Adam. "Did you know about this?"

He shook his head. One of the actors kept flinging himself across the stage spouting out his lines like an epileptic with Tourette's. "Mike said it was innovative and powerful. I believed him," he whispered back.

"Let's not make that mistake again."

The actors formed a human pyramid and Adam had a dreadful yet amusing image of them breaking out into "Hey Mickey." When they began to bop their heads from side to side, each row bopping in alternate directions, Adam choked back a snort of laughter.

Joan, whose mouth was already hanging open as she stared at them with wide eyes, gasped in horror as they began singing a cheery rendition of "Dust in the Wind" as the lead performer lay on the stage convulsing and shouting at the ceiling. "I'm embarrassed for them," she muttered in a pained voice.

"Shhh!"

Adam and Joan turned to find a severe-looking woman glaring at them.

"Some of us would like to enjoy the performance," she huffed fiercely.

In unison, Joan and Adam gathered their belongings and tiptoed out of the theater. Once they were outside, they burst into laughter. "'Some of us would like to enjoy the performance?'" Joan gasped incredulously. "Was she watching the same thing we were?"

"I know," Adam agreed. "What was that?"

"Forty-five minutes of our lives that we'll never get back."

"Unchallenged." He slipped his arm around Joan's waist. "Then again, maybe we're just not performance art people."

"I don't know," Joan said as they started across the parking lot. "The first two pieces were really good, but this one. What was that supposed to be about?"

"I can only assume it was about a dying man's attempt to rid his soul of sin and corruption before it's too late." Joan gasped and he found her gaping at him. "What?"

"You're not supposed to give intelligent, coherent answers when a person's ranting," she explained. "Have I taught you nothing?"

"Okay, Jane," he said with a laugh.

Joan playfully punched his side as they reached the car. "Are you placating me?"

"Pretty much."

"What am I going to do with you?"

Adam positioned her in front of him, penning her against the truck with his weight. "Anything you'd like to do with me."

Raising an eyebrow, Joan said, "Those are mighty big words. Are you sure you can live up to them?"

Grinning, Adam leaned into Joan, his eyes sparkling mischievously. When his mouth hovered inches away from hers, he said, "You'll just have to find out the hard way, won't you?"

Grinning herself, Joan took his face in her mittened hands. "Come here, you," she commanded as she closed the distance between their mouths.

They kissed for several minutes, oblivious to the fact that they were in the middle of a Georgetown University parking lot on a cold March evening. All that mattered was that the awkwardness from the night before was gone. Joan reveled in Adam's lighthearted sexiness and Adam just reveled in Joan.

He ended the kiss and gazed at her. She leaned against his truck with a slight smile on her face. "Oh, my," she breathed, much to his amusement.

"We should probably get going."

"Where are we going?" she asked as he opened the door for her.

Adam shrugged. He hadn't planned past dinner and the show they'd just walked out on. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Not really, but it seems like we should do something else, doesn't it? I mean it's only a quarter past nine."

Nodding, Adam closed her door and got in on the driver's side. It did seem like they should do more on their big date. He took her hand in his and kissed it. "Well, there are nightclubs and bars, pool halls, the movies, comedy clubs. I'm sure there's a miniature golf course around here somewhere."

"Or we could get some coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah. Let's find a nice, little coffeehouse somewhere and just hang out."

"I suppose this coffeehouse will have an impressive assortment of cakes, tarts, and cookies?" Adam asked knowingly.

Joan smiled. "It doesn't have to, but it would be nice if it did."

"Coffeehouse it is," he said, laughing. He pulled out of the parking lot and began looking for a café.

Despite the awful performance they'd seen, Adam was pleased with the way the evening had turned out. As he and Joan had driven into D.C., uncertainty had permeated the ride. Neither knew what to say or do or expect after their conversation the night before. Now, the thoughts Adam usually held at bay swarmed him. Glimpses of her legs, the scent of her perfume, the curve of her lips as she sang along with the radio all invaded his senses as he drove. Excitement bubbled just under his skin and a part of him wanted to find some secluded area to park so they could make out. However, a larger part of him simply wanted to spend time with her, watch her. Joan had dazzling moments of incomparable grace.

"There," she said suddenly, pointing. He didn't see where she pointed but parked anyway. They got out and she led him to a classy little café that he hadn't noticed. Inside, they shed their coats and followed their waitress to a table. Adam watched Joan glide through the crowd. Her hips swayed beneath her skirt as she danced around the chairs and tables. Her red, mock-wrap sweater emphasized curves that seemed to undulate even when she was still. He smiled at the thought. Joan was almost never still.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked after the waitress left with their order.

"Nothing."

"Mm-hmm." She clearly didn't believe him. Uncharacteristically, she didn't press him to tell her. Instead, she took his hand and began to stroke it.

Suddenly, his world centered on her caresses. Joan's ability to wholly capture his attention amazed him. It was always so effortless—a laugh here, a casual gesture there, a smile, a touch, the smell of her skin. Even after she'd destroyed his sculpture, she'd managed to captivate him and make him forget that anything other than them existed.

After they'd become a couple and she said she wanted to wait, he'd striven to curb his natural awareness of her. He hadn't succeeded, but he'd been able to overlook her innate sensuality. Mostly. Actually, he'd compartmentalized his baser emotions for Joan the same way he'd categorized his feelings about his family. When they were together, he appreciated the graceful curve of her neck. When he was alone, he remembered the silkiness of her skin. When she cuddled against him, he enjoyed their closeness. When he was alone, he savored the memory of her heat and the way her soft body pressed against his. It had been a very effective system until recently.

It had all begun to fall apart as the semester progressed. He was taking a nature and life drawing class. Though he'd known that life drawing would include doing nudes, a part of him hadn't really registered what that meant. As the life drawing section neared, Adam found himself fantasizing about sketching Joan. He'd picture her stretched out on his bed, her hair tumbling around her in luxurious waves. Or sometimes he'd become mesmerized by the mental image of her leaning against a wall staring at him with smoldering eyes, her skin glowing in the lamplight. He found himself coming up with excuses to touch her. His old habit of watching her had returned, reinstating his spacey reputation.

When she'd announced her desire to stop waiting, he'd thought his behavior had been the reason for it. But Joan hadn't noticed the change in him, hadn't discerned his preoccupation with her. Adam was infinitely grateful for that.

Of course, that didn't help him with his current dilemma. Joan sat across from him playing with his hand. At first, she'd traced her fingers over his and massaged his palm. She'd soon tired of that and moved on to kissing his fingertips one by one. Now she focused solely on his index finger, lightly rubbing it across her lower lip. She stared at him, but didn't seem to register the effect she was having. Suddenly, she bit the pad of his finger and flicked the tip of her tongue across it. Adam clenched his jaw, determined not to embarrass himself by moaning. "Jane?" he croaked as she sucked his finger into her mouth.

"Hmm?"

The vibration of her absent hum shot through his finger, up his arm, and into his chest where it burst throughout his body as pure lust. She was going to be the death of him; he just knew it. "You're sucking my finger."

Instantly, her eyes focused on him and a blush colored her cheeks. She released his finger, placed his hand on the table and put hers in her lap. "Sorry."

"I didn't exactly mind, Jane." She turned redder. "I do, however, want to know what caused that."

Joan hid her face in her hands and her blush spread down her neck. Adam found that he liked flustering his girlfriend. "It was sort of a process."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Here you are," the waitress said. Joan looked at her with boundless gratitude. "English Toffee cake and a café mocha for the lady. Peanut butter cookies and a hot chocolate for the gentleman. Sorry about the wait."

Adam assured her it was okay. After she left, he returned his attention to Joan. She was sipping her coffee and staring at the musicians setting up on the bistro's tiny stage. "I haven't forgotten."

"You could though."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Tell me," he said in his most soothing voice.

Joan sighed and met his eyes. "It started with your hair."

"What about it?"

"It's getting long. You really should get it cut."

"I'll take care of that. So you noticed my hair. Then what?"

"I tried to imagine you with a goatee."

He almost choked on his hot chocolate. "What?"

"And a beret."

Adam gaped at her.

"And a tight, black turtleneck."

"Why?"

Joan shrugged. "That's how they always dress Parisian artists and beatniks in the movies."

"I'm neither one of those, Jane."

"I know that. My mind was wandering. Leave me alone."

He tasted his cookie to hide his smile. "So how did imagining me as a beatnik lead you to sucking my finger?"

"Do you want to taste my cake?" she asked, holding her fork out to him. He shook his head. "Are you sure? It's really good."

"Fine." He curled his hand around hers then slowly flicked out his tongue, pressed it to the bottom of the fork and drew it into his mouth. Rubbing soft, lazy circles in her palm, Adam watched her. Having never tried to entice her, it pleased him to see her lips part as she watched him, her breath coming in fast, shallow puffs. He sat back, letting the utensil slip from his lips.

"That was totally unnecessary," she murmured as he chewed.

"Stop stalling," he countered. He really should flirt with her more.

"Well, you see, by the time I added the turtleneck, I realized that, um," she took a deep breath and muttered the rest of the sentence.

He leaned toward her. "I didn't hear you."

She met his eyes. "I said I realized that you're really hot." She turned her attention back to her dessert.

Joan complimented him all the time—told him he was smart, sweet, funny, talented, kind. Sometimes she told him he was cute or adorable. But never hot. Never anything that indicated a physical appreciation of him. "Hey Jane?"

"Yeah?" She didn't look up.

"You're hotter."

Smiling, she said, "I think it's a toss-up."

"No," he replied in mock-contemplation. "You're hotter."

Laughing, she gazed into his eyes and beckoned him to come closer. Adam moved his chair next to hers. She slipped her hand in his. "We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

"Looks like it."

Joan caressed his cheek before drawing him in for her kiss. It was warm and gentle, a loving kiss rather than a passionate one. She smiled at him before laying her head on his shoulder and nestling close. He wrapped an arm around her and savored the warmth of her body, the buttery coffee taste she'd left in his mouth, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose. Brushing a kiss on her hair as the band tuned up, he said, "Jane?"

"Hmm?"

He was beginning to love her little hums. "I'll buy a black turtleneck and beret before getting my hair cut if you want me to."

She scooted a little closer. "I'd like that."