Disclaimer: Don't own 'em….probably couldn't afford 'em even if they were for sale.

The kernel for this little story came from a dream that Tracey Harmon (Robandchrismom) had. So kudos for her for the initial idea…and then my perverted mind took it over from there. Like Tracey has always said….a dirty mind is a horrible thing to waste…..


Chapter One

Stupid…Stupid….Stupid

He was the one that said they would remain friends.

He was tired of the chase…of the same song and dance, and was ready to move on. He was the one that said he was ready to find someone to have a serious relationship with – other than her. But, he still wanted them to be friends. After all, they had to work together on nearly a daily basis.

A decision that was good for everyone, right?

She had hesitated that night…but finally agreed. And had respected his decision. She hadn't pursued him…or flirted with him…or looked at him with those honey-brown eyes in the way that only she could – and make all of the blood in his body flow south so that he had to squirm or walk uncomfortably for the next few minutes.

She had done none of the above.

And that is why he was mentally kicking his own ass at the moment. "I am so stupid…stupid…stupid…" he muttered to himself as he watched her clean up his apartment – dressed in a pair of old, denim shorts and a baby doll t-shirt.

He was wounded…shot by a sniper in the line of duty. A serious injury, hitting a few major organs and generally causing chaos and panic to his insides. He had been in the hospital for weeks…learned that he had quit breathing and needed CPR ….and had spent at least four days in a relaxing coma before coming to and becoming aware of the fact that she had been the one to give him CPR.

One last chance to taste her lips and he was unconscious. Damn.

He was not only stupid, he also had incredibly bad timing.

But now he was home and that brought him to why she was there in his apartment dressed in a pair of denim shorts that he would bet his next paycheck she had worn in high school and an old, too-tight t-shirt he would wager was just as old.

He couldn't do a thing. The doctor had sent him home on the condition that he sit on his ass for six weeks and not lift a finger. No cooking, no cleaning, no driving, no nothing….including sex.

Not that this was an issue. That well had been dry for a couple of years now, he would admit. Not since she had been the focus of all his fantasies and those dreams had never become a reality.

And they certainly wouldn't now, especially with him playing the "Let's-remain-friends" card.

Anyway, since he could do nothing for himself, different folks from the morgue and the precinct had been by to cook, clean, do his laundry and his shopping. Jordan had agreed to help…once during the week and then again on Saturdays.

He had protested at first. "I don't want to mess up your weekends."

"No problem…I'll be over on Saturday mornings and Wednesday nights. It's the least I can do…after all, we are friends." She had put the emphasis on the last word.

And he didn't let her see him flinch.

So now it was Saturday morning and she was at his apartment….cleaning…making spaghetti sauce for supper….washing his jeans, shirts, towels, and boxers. And trying to fix his vacuum cleaner. She was sitting on the floor with her long legs stretched out in front of her, trying to get the machine unclogged. "You know…if you'd change the bag occasionally, it would help, Wood," she commented, as she shook the hose to try to dislodge some of the debris.

"Sorry…housework has never been my thing, you know….clean up a little before company and that's all."

She grunted. "You could always hire a maid service."

The wicked thought of Jordan Cavanaugh in a naughty French maid outfit flitted across Woody's mind and parked…front and center. He said nothing for a moment…relishing the vision.

"Woody? You okay? Do you need some more pain medication?"

Mentally he shook himself. "No…no…and on a cop's salary? Have a cleaning service?"

She shrugged. "It was just an idea…There…" She had the vacuum fixed and was hard at it again. He tried his best not to watch as she vacuumed the rest of the apartment…especially when she bent over. He swallowed hard. He wondered if she could manage to run him a cold shower before she left…

She dusted….folded the laundry….and got his supper for him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he managed to get out around spaghetti noodles and some of the best marinara sauce he had ever eaten. She can cook, too? Why didn't he know this? "Don't you want some?"

"Ummmm, no. I need to go."

"It's early…and you've cooked enough for an army…don't you want to stay for a while?"

She shook her head and looked a little uncertain about what to tell him next. "No, I need to go get ready…"

He assumed she meant for work. But in a teasing tone, he asked, "What's the rush? You got a hot date?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I do," she replied in a quiet voice.

Woody stopped eating. Suddenly his appetite was gone. "Good for you," he rejoined in an equally quiet tone.

She began to gather up her things to leave. "Do I know him?" he finally asked, wondering who it could be that was spending the evening with her. A twinge…no, a wave of jealousy washed over him.

"I don't know if you've ever met him or not….It's Troy Hinson."

"The assistant DA?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you didn't like lawyers."

"Troy's different. I've known him since high school. Do you need anything else before I leave?"

He shook his head. She had done quite enough.


Woody didn't see or hear from her until Wednesday when she dropped by after work to cook dinner and throw another load of jeans and boxers in the wash. She arrived with chicken and vegetables to cook…and lemon pie…his favorite dessert.

"You don't have to go through all this trouble, Jordan," he said, watching her prepare dinner from his spot on the couch.

"It's no trouble. Besides, you need to eat right so you'll get better faster. We need you back out there catching the bad guys." She threw him a grin so reminiscent of old times that he nearly caught himself flirting with her again.

Before he remembered. They were friends. Just friends. And she was dating Troy.

Troy. The name conjured up an image of a big, blonde, football player. That didn't seem like Jordan's type. He had to know…so he figured he'd ask. All she could do is say no. He picked up the TV remote and turned his attention to the program on the set. "How'd your date go Saturday?" he asked, trying to remain coolly casual.

"Good. It went really well."

"Where'd he take you?"

"Café de Art."

Woody's head spun. That was one of the most exclusive restaurants in town. Local artists displayed their painting and sculptures amid food prepared by five star chefs. And the wine selection was "to die for," according the restaurant reviews the eating establishment had garnered. Not that he knew too much about wine. If it wasn't Guinness or a Scotch neat, he had no idea whether it was good or not.

And he had no idea that Jordan liked such places. The times they had grabbed dinner together had either been at a fast food joint or a casual sit-down diner.

He never figured her for a wine connoisseur.

"Did you have a good time?" he continued, still trying to act nonchalant.

"It was really nice. We ate and then walked down by the water front. It was a quiet end to a busy week. I think we both had a chance to relax and reconnect. I hadn't seen Troy in years…not since our last high school reunion about five years ago. I didn't know he was even back at town until I ran into him taking Rene' some reports about three weeks ago…" Thank God, the oven timer went off and she had to turn her attention to the chicken. Woody didn't know if he could handle any more information about ADA Hinson on an empty stomach, much less the knowledge that Jordan enjoyed "a quiet end to a busy week with another man." In the past, what time they did spend together outside of work was about…work. They'd speculate on cases…chase down hunches….

He was never aware that Jordan might enjoy a life outside of work.

"Stupid…stupid…stupid…." He muttered to himself one more time before she brought his supper to him.