I just read the TV Guide "Returning Favorites" article on Crossing Jordan… let's just say Tim Kring is not my favorite person right now, and I'm not really feeling my story anymore…sigh. The whole 'will they won't they?' thing is starting to get old on that show. Oh well, I'll stick it through…because I have nothing else to do at the moment. Maybe the producers lie.

Oh yeah, and the song used in this chapter is from Faith Hill's new CD Fireflies.

Did You Ever Long To Kiss Me?

Woody barely said a word before they returned to the house. It wasn't for lack of something to say to her. On the contrary, he had a thousand thoughts shooting through his brain. Most of them involved loosing her deep chestnut locks from that practical bun so he could run his fingers through them while he undressed her. And it was precisely those thoughts which were going to lead him right into a train wreck. The kiss had shocked him, not for its suddenness, but for its intensity. There had been no resistance on her part at all. If he had chosen to, he could have taken things quite far…and he had wanted to.

It was going to be very hard denying his lingering attraction to Jordan. At some level, he had never stopped wanting her. And from the reaction she had given him, he suspected Jordan was in a willing place she had never trusted herself in around him before. He could easily let himself get lost in this sudden turn around in her behavior. But how long would it be before she decided to bolt out of his arms when the commitment became too much? Or…what if this was simply something she needed to get out of her system? For all Woody knew, it could be purely physical on her reasoning…he wouldn't put it past her. Having Jordan for one night and then losing her forever would be worse than never having her at all. It wasn't what he wanted.

It was these thoughts that kept him from taking her to bed that very night. It was an effort to limit his contact with her to a light touch on the small of her back as he guided her into the house. Jordan hadn't seemed to notice his silence. She had been lost in her own thoughts. While she never had an exact plan to set their relationship right again, she had expected to work at it at least. How had arguing like never before landed her in his arms? Did he even know what was going through her mind at his touch?

After being guided into the house, Jordan walked uncertainly towards the stairs. His silence was beginning to bother her now. Was he going to pretend nothing had happened, letting the moment disappear like a stupid mistake? Stopping after only a few steps, she turned around and faced him, holding onto the banister for courage. It was time to lay her cards on the table.

"Woody, I need to tell you something," she blurted out before she lost her nerve.

"Jordan…I think I know what you're going to say," he said, his face falling a little. Here it comes. 'We shouldn't have done that. It didn't mean anything.' "I don't know if I have the energy for it right now."

"I don't care. I finally have the strength to say this, I can't just stop," she said simply. "I might never work up the nerve again…I know it seems like I strung you along for the last few years. But let's face it, I have commitment issues…I spook easily. You knew that when you took me on. But it hurt me when I heard things about you and other women. Maybe you were just trying to get a reaction out of me, I don't know. But you should have known better than to think I would pull a jealousy act when you looked so…so happy."

Jordan swallowed back the pain at the thought of him contented with someone else. Woody caught the look in her eyes and glanced down in shame. Jordan really knew how to tell it like it was, in the end.

"And it really hurt when you threw me out of your life," she said softly, though her voice was full of conviction. There it was, voiced and unregrettably revealed. She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to explain. "I'm not blaming you for feeling the way you did. I'd hate me too if I had to endure half the things I put you through," she smiled a little. Looking down at her hand gripping the railing, her face grew deeply serious. "But there was not a single day that I didn't care about you, more than I care about my own life. If I didn't do enough to let you know, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I'm not asking you to make a decision about us right now. But…I just needed to…tell you."

As she said this, she stepped closer to him. As long as she was acting like she had had five shots of tequila, she might as well give him a little extra encouragement. She placed her hand against the side of his face, pulling him down to meet her lips. She let her other hand trail down to his abs, coming to rest just above the waist of his jeans. Woody felt his blood warm under his skin, automatically bringing his hands to her hips and pulling her closer. Jordan traced his lips with her tongue, and he opened his mouth obligingly. The fact that she was leading this was making her incredibly sexy to him. He was starting to lose control…and he didn't care. Just as suddenly as she had started the moment, Jordan pulled away from him and backed away a few steps. Her face was flushed, and she was nearly shaking from her boldness.

"I'm sorry," she said, and for a second he thought she was bolting already. "I'm sure that's the last thing you need from me right now…my horrible timing as usual."

With this final apologetic statement, she turned and went straight upstairs, leaving Woody abandoned in the hallway in a most unfulfilled state. He stared after her in disbelief, feeling far from satisfied with where she had ended things. The last ten minutes had knocked all reason out of his head.

Jordan changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed, smiling to herself. She lay awake for a long time, knowing exactly what she had just done to Woody. She had meant every word of what she said to him, and only hoped that he would believe her once she began to show him how much she wanted things to change between them. After a while, she heard his footsteps approach her room, stopping just short of her door. She could almost see him arguing with himself over whether he should go in. He finally walked away with what she suspected was frustrated rationality. She smiled with confidence. Always leave them wanting more…

Woody was noticeably friendlier to Jordan the next morning. Although he said nothing of the night before, it still remained heavy on his mind. He felt confused. His heart still wanted Jordan; that much was clear. But there was still so much they had yet to figure out. The air had not been cleared, and he still had to deal with how he had treated Jordan.

Was he sorry for severing their relationship? Undoubtedly. He hated what he had done, how he had let his emotions get tangled and ended up effectively blaming her for what happened to him. But was he sorry for telling her off for waiting so long to realize she might care for him, dragging him through Hell and high water in the process of figuring it out? That, he was unsure about. But Fate had a keen way of prodding him in the right direction as the day wore on, starting with ten a.m. Mass.

Amazingly, Jordan kept her word to attend with him. It was the first time he had gone since before the shooting. He had lost a lot of faith in God during his time in the hospital. Afterwards, he had felt too guilty about his despair to go back. Here, though, with Father Mahone expecting his presence, it was difficult not to go. It was a testament of Jordan's loyalty to him that she was there, reciting the responses and the Our Fathers right along with him – Woody knew how she felt about the Catholic Church. Maybe…could what she said to him have been true? Was she willing to try that hard for him? She's left you alone before, his pessimist side warned him.

And that's when the powers that be decided they would hit him upside the head with a frying pan, more than once,if need be, to get him to snap out of it. Father Mahone began to tell a story that Woody had heard before – the one about a man who walked through his life, sometimes seeing a set of footprints belonging to God next to his, sometimes not. He thought that God had abandoned him in his most desperate times. God explained that he was never abandoned – it was in those times that He had carried the man. Father Mahone asked everyone to realize that even in the most horrible times in life, they are never alone. There will always be someone to carry them. He told them to be grateful to those in life who did carry them.

Woody glanced over at Jordan. She was looking down at her hands innocently, but her eyes gave away how the message had hit her. If they had done anything for each other, it had been giving support while one or the other buckled under the trials of life. They owed a great deal to each other. Woody doubted he would ever find that kind of connection again. He let his gaze drop away from her as the line for Communion was started. After the final prayer was said and the Mass began to break up, Woody pressed the keys to the car into her palm.

"Go on to the car," he told her.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To talk to Father Mahone about something I should have taken care of the first day I got here," he said. "I need to make arrangements for my uncle."

Jordan watched him walk away before turning to go to the car. Her heart was starting to grow heavy with the way he seemed to be ignoring what was happening between them. Maybe he didn't want to fix things after all. Maybe last night was just a result of the pent up anger inside of them, looking for a release in any form.

She got a few curious stares from some of the other church goers as she walked through the parking lot. No doubt they wanted to know who this stranger was with one of their own. One older woman even stopped Jordan to teasingly say that she hoped Jordan was feeding Woody meals that would keep him trim and not gain all that weight back. Jordan smiled self-consciously. It felt like a sledgehammer had hit her in the gut. With that comment, she finally got it – her Woody was not the same man who had left this town. She had no idea who the Kewaunee Woody was, or what made him that way. Would that man stand in the way of her chances with the Woody she knew?

Jordan was glad to finally retreat to the car. She didn't have to wait long for Woody.

"I ran into Chuck," he said as he joined her. "He told me that George Havisty's daughter wants to talk to us. I guess she heard about what happened."

"She wants to see us today?" Jordan asked.

"Yup. She works as a waitress/singer at our favorite local bar," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "She's there right now, we can meet her."

Hardly anyone was in The Bucket at that time of day, and the ones who were in there were mostly people cleaning up from the night before. Jordan and Woody were told to sit anywhere and that Annalisa Havisty would be with them shortly after her rehearsal finished. The band was onstage preparing for a show that night. They had just finished a lively country song and went right into a power ballad. It was after they had sat down at the table to wait that Woody started to think someone must be blatantly trying to tell him something about Jordan. They both grew very still as they listened to the lyrics that Annalisa was singing.

You never looked so good
as you did last night,
underneath the city lights,
there walking with your friend,
laughing at the moon.
I swear you looked right through me.
But I'm still living with your goodbye,
and you're just going on with your life.

How can you just walk on by
without one tear in your eye?
Don't you have the slightest feelings left for me?
Maybe that's just your way
of dealing with the pain,
forgetting everything
between our rise and fall
like we never loved at all.

You, I hear you're doing fine.
Seems like you're doing well
as far as I can tell.
Time is leaving us behind,
another week has passed
and still I haven't laughed yet.
So tell me, what your secret is
to letting go, letting go like you did.

Did you forget the magic?
Did you forget the passion?
Oh, and did you ever miss me,
and long to kiss me?

Maybe that's just your way
of dealing with the pain,
forgetting everything
between our rise and fall
like we never loved at all.

What the hell? Woody thought. I have to interview this woman after that? Annalisa came down from the stage and walked over to where they were sitting. She was a petite woman in her early forties, copper hair and tanned skin. She looked like the kind of woman who didn't take crap from anybody. She extended her hand to Woody.

"Detective Hoyt, I am so sorry about what happened with my father," she said.

"Oh, it's all right, really. We were partly in the wrong anyway," he said with a glance at Jordan. Her lips quirked into a small smile which she tried to hide.

"My father can be a pain in the ass," Annalisa said with a roll of her eyes. "He had no right to behave that way, especially considering what you folks were there about."

"So Chuck filled you in?" Woody asked.

Annalisa nodded. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss. It's just awful. But…well, I don't really know how to tell you this. We sold that particular knife to David several years ago."

Woody thought he felt his stomach drop out of his body. His mouth dropped open slightly, but he couldn't manage a single word. Fortunately, Jordan came to his rescue.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am. I sold it personally. You see, half or so of that stuff is mine. I just store it at my father's place. You're quite welcome to search my house or his, of course," Annalisa explained. At the crestfallen look on Woody's face, she added, "Like I said, I'm so sorry. I feel just terrible about this."

She stood up with a regretful look and left them. Jordan placed a consoling hand over his. There was nothing they could do but go back and start over at the beginning. When they returned to the ranch, Jordan followed Woody into the guest house. He stopped just inside of the door and looked around quietly. Finally, his eyes landed on a large cabinet in one corner. He walked up to it and opened the double doors, an unreadable look on his face. Jordan stood back a little, unable to see beyond the open doors. Woody reached inside and pulled out an empty display box. It was an exact match to the knife. He looked off into space and shook his head.

"All this time, it's been a wild goose chase," he said quietly. Weighing the box carefully in his hands, he turned and walked towards the door. "I need to just…take a drive; clear my head."

"Woody," Jordan said, stopping him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm all right," he told her. He reached out and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek, briefly releasing the look of concern in her eyes. For a moment, it looked as though he were about to say something, but he turned quickly and left.

Jordan lifted her arms a little and let them fall to her side in uncertainty. She knew he was starting to lose hope. It hurt her terribly to see the look of surrender in his eyes. Unable to help him in any other way, she started prepping the whole guest house for one more thorough look. There had to be something they had missed. There just had to be.

The doorbell surprised her, and she left her work to see who would be showing up there of all places. She opened the door on a man who looked to be in his thirties, a crisp white shirt on with a label that said "Florist." He smiled at her.

"Delivery for you, miss," he said, handing her a long white box. She took it and looked at him in confusion.

"Oh. Ah, I think there might be a mistake," she said.

"Is this the Hoyt ranch?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then there's no confusion. Have a nice day," he told her happily, turning to leave before she could protest.

Jordan stared after him, curious who could have sent her flowers. Picking up a small envelope that had been slipped under a yellow ribbon, she flipped the flap up and read the card.

To the brilliant and beautiful ME –

From a Secret Admirer

A little strange, perhaps, but Jordan was flattered nonetheless. Although she had no interest, for obvious reasons, she suspected they might be from a certain golden haired cowboy who enjoyed going after what was not his. She smiled. Woody would hit the roof. It was lovely knowing she had the ability to make him jealous. And this would certainly send him into a fit.

She opened the box and found a dozen long stemmed pink roses. They smelled glorious, even from a foot away. She lowered her head and inhaled the scent…and immediately knew something was wrong. They smelled too sweet. Sickeningly sweet. The room began to spin and her vision blurred. She felt light headed and knew she was going to black out.

"Woody," she said, though it came out in a slurred whisper. She prayed that he would find her before this sick bastard did. The next moment, she felt her body hit the ground before losing reality.