Garrett looked across his desk at Jordan. They had just finished the daily staff meeting and now he and she were going over some open cases together...detail by detail, just to see if there was anything they missed. Jordan had her nose buried deep in a file, not noticing her employer was more concerned over how she looked than any obtuse information stuck in a file. Finally, feeling his eyes on her, she looked up. "What?" she asked.

"Are you smoking again?"

Jordan was shocked at the randomness of the question...smoking. She hadn't done that since she was in residency to become a heart surgeon. "No....no. What in the world makes you think that?"

"Weight...your weight. You're losing weight again. You've always lost weight when you smoked."

Absent-mindedly, Jordan touched her stomach. Yes, she had lost weight. She was down several pounds...two pant-sizes if the truth be known. The khakis she had on today were held at the waist by a safety pin that she had bunched all the excess fabric on and fastened. If she didn't do that, the pants would have fallen down. "I know I've dropped a few pounds..." she began. Garrett gave her a sharp look. "Okay, okay, more than a few pounds. But no, I haven't been smoking. Honest."

Garrett was relieved on one hand...she wasn't smoking. "But why are you losing weight? Surely, you're not dieting. Because if you are, I'm calling Stiles and have you treated for eating disorders," he threatened.

"No, Garrett. I'm not dieting. I'm just busy... and you know me when I'm busy...I forget about eating. And I haven't been that hungry lately."

"Maybe you're too busy. Maybe you need some time off. Maybe you need a vacation."

"No... no... please, no, Garret," she was nearly begging now.

"Most people I tell that to are racing for the door and you're begging to stay."

"I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Besides, I can't leave the bar that long."

"What if I promised to watch the Pogue for you while you're gone?"

"Please....Garrett. I promise I'll eat. Regularly. Lots of fattening foods. Just please, no vacation."

Garrett looked his favorite ME over. She was too thin. She was also working too hard. He ran a hand over the back of his head. He was worried about her. She was absorbed in her work...too absorbed. He hadn't even had to beg her for her paper work. It had been submitted on time... in triplicate...neatly.

"So then, what gives, Jor? You're busy...so what? You've always been busy. That's not everything."

Jordan got up and walked over to the window of Garrett's office. "Is this confessional?" she asked, with a wry smile on her lips.

"Sort of...since I'm the only one you'll talk to since Max left."

Jordan mentally gave a cry of pain. The truth was, Garrett was the only one she could talk to since before Max left. She trusted the man with her life. Now he was sitting back in his chair, feet propped on the desk, hands behind his head, waiting for her to begin.

"It's a lot of things..."she started.

"It's Woody," Garrett said, with a tone of finality and knowledge.

Jordan was shocked ... and speechless. Seeing her reaction, he continued. "You've ended the relationship. You're running again...not physically, but you're running again from something. What is it?"

Jordan told him everything that Woody had told her at his apartment ...she needed to leave, get out, go away. "I think that subconsciously Woody knows that we're not right for each other. My problem is I couldn't handle a break up with him....either of us hurting. So I told him that I would rather be friends with him than anything more."

"And how did he react?"

"He asked me if we would always be friends and I told him yes."

"Have you seen him since he got back from Kauwanne?"

"Yes...I've answered a few of his homicide calls."

"No, I mean on a personal level ... one on one without a dead body in between."

"No..."

Garrett sighed. "So how's the friendship thing working? For you, I mean. Just you."

Jordan bit her lip. It was difficult. She had seen him flirt with Lily, who promptly rebuffed it, knowing Jordan's and Woody's history. Devon was different. She was new and didn't know their history. She responded by flirting right back, despite the nasty stares of her co-workers. She could see Woody with someone like Devon...petite, blonde, smart....and no emotional baggage except for her insatiable desire to always be right. Drawing in a shaky breath, she replied, "Some days are good...other days are hell." She turned to her boss and asked, "So...what's a girl to do?"

Garrett smiled at her. "Hang in there. It will get better. And eat."

Jordan sat back down. "Anything else?"

"Trust your heart....and give Woody more credit than you are."

For the next several months, Jordan and Woody worked together occasionally. He even came back to the Pogue. They talked and joked. But Woody went out of his way not to touch her...nothing even remotely close. Jordan had hoped she would forget how good it felt to be in his arms...how much she missed his kisses...longed for them, and him. But it didn't happen. Unfortunately, it didn't get better, as Garrett had promised. It often was worse.

Doggedly, she kept working...at the morgue and the Pogue. She became absorbed in her cases even more than was usual for Jordan. And the Pogue was now turning a substantial profit. For the first time in years, Jordan should be able to sit back and take it easier. But she couldn't. Not when her emotional life continued to be in such turmoil.

Woody was worried about her. Each time he saw her, she appeared thinner...he had pushed her to go to dinner with him several times. Once in a while, she'd give in, and they'd go out for Mexican or Chinese. She'd eat, but not much. "Hey, what's up?" he asked her once. "You're just pushing the food around on your plate...is something wrong with it?"

"Huh? No...no... just not hungry," she had replied, gamely shoveling in another spoonful in hopes of satisfying him.

Woody gave her a sharp look. Jordan was a lousy liar. He could see right through her. Gently taking her hand, he asked, "What's wrong Jordan? We're still friends...you can still talk to me."

Jordan looked into his eyes – those crystalline blue eyes that still could leave her tongue-tied and weak-kneed. Would that ever stop? Did she ever want it to stop? It was difficult enough to be sitting there with him...especially since he had seemed to go on well with his life. That had been enough to show Jordan that she had done the right thing when she had told him they could be friends and nothing more. Any sexual attraction or anything else he may have had for her seemed to be a thing of the past.

She wished she could say the same thing for her...or at least say she was coping better. She wasn't. The roses he had sent her months before had long since faded and died. She had collected each one as their full blooms went limp and pressed them between the pages of her Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Placing them in an antique hatbox she kept in her bedroom, she would often take the lid off to catch a faint fragrance of the roses and re-read the card he had sent.

"Is it your father, Jordan?" he asked. "Is something wrong with Max?"

"Dad? No... not that I'm aware of."

"Have you heard from him?"

"Not lately...once in a while he'll call. He's still not too sure how e-mail works...he was in Ireland last time I heard from him a few weeks ago."

Woody squeezed her hand. Max's leaving had been hard on her – not with just the bar, but he knew Jordan felt emotionally stranded. Max was the only real family of any sort Jordan had. She and her grandmother had never been close. "Look, Jo, if you need me while he's gone...you can still call me. I'll be right there."

"Thanks...I'll remember that," she told him with a small smile. About two in the morning when I can't sleep because I'm thinking about you.

Woody glanced at her one more time before finishing his meal. When the check came, he took it. "No, Woody, let me get mine," she argued.

"Nope...I still owe you dinner from the time you took care of me after the sleeping pill incident."

Jordan swallowed hard. The event that started this whole mess... "Thanks, Woody. I appreciate it. I'll get it next time?" she asked, indicating the bill.

Smiling at her, Woody replied, "Yeah... next time you're buying." He placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her to the doors of the restaurant. She could feel sparks on her spine from where his hand rubbed against her. Jesus, she thought. Is it always going to be like this? This is not good for me.

Once outside, they parted ways. Woody was going home. Jordan was going to the Pogue. Woody started his car and pulled away, watching Jordan get in her SUV in his rearview mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair. He was worried about her. She was working too hard. And when the cold November wind whipped around the side of the restaurant, it nearly blew her against him. She was too thin and she had shivered hard. Finally, not being able to stand it any longer, he punched the morgue's number on his cell phone.

"May I speak to Garrett Macey?" he asked. "It's Detective Hoyt."

A moment later, he was connected with Garrett.

"What's up, Woody?"

"It's Jordan..."

"Is she hurt? What has she done now?"

Woody nearly chuckled...that hadn't changed at least. Jordan still got in trouble.

"No ... she's fine...I think. I just had dinner with her. She's... she's ... I'm just worried about her, Garrett. Is anything wrong?"

Garrett didn't know how to answer that. The detective was part of the reason...but he knew Jordan didn't want Woody to know that. And it really wasn't his place to say. "I think that Jordan just has a lot on her mind right now, Woody."

"Is work going okay for her?"

"Yeah. It is."

"So, it's not work...The Pogue?"

"It seems to be fine, too." Garrett was hoping Woody would put two and two together and cash the check. It wasn't working. But the next question caught him by surprise.

"Is....is.... she seeing someone, Garrett? Has someone hurt her?"

Oh Lord, how am I supposed to answer that one? Garret thought. No, she isn't seeing 't see anyone as long as she's in love with you...and she hurts because, while she feels she has done what is best for you, she misses you...and wants you. But he couldn't say that. Not without betraying Jordan...and losing her trust. "Ummm, no. I don't think she's seeing anyone. I haven't heard her mention anyone..." Garrett replied hesitantly.

Woody caught the hesitation. Garrett may not be sure, but he may have his suspicions. "Look, if she tells you anything...you find out what's bothering her, could you let me know? I'm worried about her... really."

Garrett had replied he would and hung up. Woody continued his drive home, but circled back by the Pogue to make sure she got there okay. Her SUV was in her spot and from the window he could see she was tending bar...again. Damn Max, he thought. He needs to get back home...relieve her from some of this. A sudden thought struck him. If there was someone else, when did she get to see him? All she did was work ... what if it was someone at work? He wracked his brain. Eddie? No...no way she'd go out with him, even if they had let bygones be bygones. That was still a matter of principle. Garrett? He immediately dismissed that thought. The chief ME was a cross between a boss, big brother, and father-figure for Jordan. Bug wasn't even in the picture. Nigel? Maybe...they did have a lot in common. Peter? Now ... maybe Peter. He was good-looking and he was turning out to be a heck of an ME. Tomorrow he'd see if he could corner Lily...or better yet Devon. He could get Devon to spill her guts... all he had to do was roll those blue eyes of his at her, and he'd have the information he wanted.

No, wait. Did he really want it? Did he really want to know if Jordan was seeing someone else? He felt his heart twist. He wasn't sure. She had told him all she desired with him was friendship. And he had tried to comply. He backed off...kept the connection between her either strictly professional for work, or heaven help him, as brotherly as he could. Although any time he looked in her whiskey-colored eyes, the last thing he felt was brotherly. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her off somewhere and show her just how he really felt about her and this whole damned friendship thing. But he was trying to be patient...to allow her to realize how she felt ... maybe this was how she really felt. Maybe all she wanted to be was his friend. Maybe being with him made her nervous...made her remember how things were once between them ... Could have been between them. He groaned. All this thinking was getting him nowhere. He pulled his car into another local bar. It wasn't the Pogue, but the beer was still cold. And that's what he needed right now...a beer.