Woody found himself in the morgue early on Saturday morning. He had actually ended up sleeping in his office the night before – the snow had ground everything to a halt. He had no "real" police business there at the morgue. He simply wanted to check on Jordan, to make sure she was okay in the storm, and to see if she needed anything. He checked her office first. No sign of her there – no purse, no keys, no jacket. Reluctantly, he turned away and nearly ran straight in to Nigel.

"Hello Woodrow," Nigel said. "Looking for our Jordan?"

"Yeah. Just wanted to see if she was okay."

"I imagine she's more than okay. The lucky girl has the weekend off. She can cuddle up at her apartment, play mommy, and enjoy the snow."

"Play mommy?" The expression on Woody's face was priceless.

"Yes, of course. I saw her, Ray, and his kids at Starbucks last night enjoying hot chocolate and conversation. Who knows? They all may have decided to ride out this blizzard together. They were looking pretty chummy. She really likes Ray's girls."

"Are you sure?" Jordan liking kids? Woody couldn't picture it. She had always been afraid she would scar children for the rest of their lives.

"Woodrow, you surely must know that behind most women's seeming reluctance for home, hearth, and matrimony, there lies a desire to procreate....or at the very least nurture. Jordan's no different. I'd bet good money, if the truth be know, that when she was a girl, she dreamed of her wedding and children. I think seeing Ray's kids has at least brought back that desire to ...well....maybe have a family, even if the children are not her biological ones." Nigel gave Woody a pointed look.

Woody cleared his throat. "Oh," was all he could manage to squeak out. "So she's at her apartment?"

"She was a few minutes ago. I had to call her about the Jane Doe that she brought in last week for Ray."

"I think I go over to her apartment and see if she's okay....or needs anything."

"That might be a good idea. Three kids can run your resources dry."

Nigel found himself talking to thin air. Woody had already run down the hall and caught the elevator.

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A half an hour later, Woody found himself outside the red door of Jordan's apartment. Nervously he ran his fingers through his hair before he knocked.

Why was he here? He was the one who had told Jordan they needed to get on with their lives while she was trying to make up her mind. Maybe that was what she was doing. What right did he have to try to spy on her and see if she was with Ray?

Truth be known, he was a little jealous. While he knew he could make Jordan want him, seduction wouldn't be enough to keep her. Ray had something he didn't – children. That was an aspect of Jordan's character he had never considered, that she may want kids. She may not have even known it herself until she began seeing Ray's daughters. Finally deciding noting ventured, nothing gained, he knocked. A few seconds later, Jordan opened the door.

Jordan was startled when she saw him. She had expected Nigel, or perhaps Garrett, but not Woody. "Hello," she managed to get out.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure...yeah," Jordan opened the door a little wider to let him come through. Woody came in and noted the apartment was quiet. No kids in sight.

"By yourself?"

"Ummmm yeah. Why?"

"Didn't know if you decided to have company during the storm or not."

"No.....just me. I'm making Garrett happy by getting caught up on paper work."

Jordan noticed Woody's nervousness. "Could I get you a beer or something Wood?"

"Nah. I'm on duty. Just wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything?"

"I'm fine. Went by the grocery store on the way home from work last night. Do you need anything else?"

"No, no... just checking on you. Sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure, Woody."

Woody sighed and walked toward the door. Jordan followed. He stopped with his hand on the knob. "Think maybe we could do dinner sometime soon?"

"That would be nice. Just let me know when."

Woody hesitated again. Gazing down into her whiskey-colored eyes, it hit him just how much he had missed her. Missed everything – working with her, talking with her, being with her...holding her. How long had it been? Too long, he decided. Determinedly, he pulled her into his arms.

Jordan hesitated for only a heartbeat. She had ached for his touch for days. Feeling his arms tighten, she looked up, only to find his lips crashing down on hers.

For a long minute, he kissed her hard, just hungry to feel her mouth beneath his. Then, sensing her hesitation, his caress became softer, more seductive, coaxing a response from her. Her hands found the front of his shirt and traveled up to his collar, tightening on it and holding him closer to her. Feeling her response, he turned her so her back was against the door and he had her trapped with his lips and his body. Gently taking her lower lip between his teeth, he heard her moan. Unfortunately, this just turned him on more and the kiss was rapidly getting out of control.

Jordan could hear warning bells going off inside her head. No. Don't. Remember, he's seeing someone else now. Stop. But this time, like Woody had warned, her heart was winning over her head. So when he tugged her hands up over her head and leaned in closer to her, she did nothing to stop him.

Phones have a funny way of being damned inconvenient when they want to. The incessant ringing of Woody's cell was the only thing that stopped them. Still holding her hands in one of his, he fished around in his coat pocket for it. "Hoyt," he answered, sounding raspy and out of breath even to himself. "Uh-huh....right....be there in a minute."

Reluctantly he let go of Jordan's hands and hugged her tightly, breathing in her scent, and kissing the top of her head. "I gotta go. That was Eddie." He opened the door. "We're not through with this 'conversation' yet Jo. I'll see you soon." And he left.

Jordan slowly shut the door and straightened her clothes. For a man that was seeing another woman, he was still attracted to her. At least that was one thing in her favor.

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Two weeks later, Jordan made good on her promise to Elizabeth the shopping trip and the slumber party. Jordan picked her up from school and they shopped at the mall and ate dinner out. After going home and putting on some of Elizabeth's favorite CD's, they made chocolate chip cookies. Jordan had been surprised with both Elizabeth's choice of music and her maturity. She had revealed to Elizabeth that she had also lost her mother at an early age and understood her loneliness. Elizabeth had responded by quickly bonding with Jordan. For them, the next day passed far too fast and all too soon Elizabeth was back home with Ray. "We'll do it again," she promised.

As a matter of fact, she was spending more and more time with Elizabeth, Shannon, and Lisa. They were filling a void in her life she wasn't even aware that she had. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had always figured at some point she would have kids – either her own, or through adoption. She just never imagined that lthe onging for a family of her own would come now.

After the third time the girls had romped through the morgue with her, Garrett noticed. "I see you've become friends with Ray's girls," he had commented to her one afternoon after she got back from treating them to Starbucks hot chocolate again.

"Yeah, they're great kids....really special."

"I know...this isn't empathy playing a role, is it?" Garrett asked, referring the her mother's death.

"I know how they feel – especially Elizabeth. But no. It's not empathy or sympathy. I enjoy being with them."

"What about their dad?"

"Ray? I like Ray. He's a nice guy."

"Anything more?"

Jordan turned around and gave him a shocked look. "No. There's nothing more. I like him. I love his daughters."

"Wouldn't think about a relationship with him for the sake of his girls?"

"No. That wouldn't be fair to him, his daughters, or me."

Garrett smiled. "Then I guess a certain young detective is still in the picture?"

Jordan thought for a minute. She knew Garrett had observed that Woody hadn't been in the morgue as much and had avoided working with her up until recently. Since that afternoon at her apartment, he had begun requesting her again on homicides. They had exchanged heated looks, and he often would touch her hand or arm or even waist when he didn't have to, but had said nothing to her. She ached for him. Her mind was made up, but she didn't know what he was thinking now. "I don't know how to answer that, Gar. I guess you'd have to ask him that."