He appeared at her apartment door an hour after leaving work. As she opened it to allow him in, she noticed that he had changed out of his suit and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was slightly mussed, probably from pulling the shirt over his head. She'd always loved to see him dressed so casually, and she knew that tonight it was a sign that he didn't intend the evening to be about business.

Realizing that she'd been staring, she opened the door wider and stepped back, making room for him to pass. "Sorry. Daydreaming."

"Oh." He deliberately angled his path so that he had to brush past her to walk in. He may not have had any idea what to say, but he was very aware of what he wanted to do.

She shut the door behind him, resisting the instinct to step back and put space between them. "So . . . uh, you want dinner?"

"Dinner . . ." he repeated contemplatively. "You look pretty, Alex."

She blinked, trying to figure out the connection between dinner and her appearance. Finding none, she looked down at herself; she didn't look like anything special as far as she could tell. Jeans, bare feet, and an oversized t-shirt she'd knotted at the small of her back to make it fit didn't exactly constitute a ravishing outfit. "Um, thanks," she said finally with a mental shrug. "But don't change the subject."

"What was the subject?" He was fascinated with the way she was wearing her t-shirt. The gathering in the back had pulled the front tight against her, so that her form was clearly outlined; the knot itself sat just above the waistband of her pants, allowing tempting glimpses of her skin to show every now and then when it rode up.

"Dinner, Bobby." Two could play at this game, she thought, taking a better look at the way his jeans fit him. If he got to check her out, then she got to check him out.

"Oh, right." He pulled his eyes away from her shirt and settled them on her face. "Food. Um . . ." He wasn't particularly hungry, and even if he had been, he was way too interested in the woman in front of him to care about his stomach. "I guess if you're hungry," he said with reluctance, lowering his eyes and thinking, You're talking about food, while I'm trying not to throw you over my shoulder and haul you into the bedroom?

"I'm not really hungry, actually."

His eyes flew back to her face, trying to see if there was a hint in that statement. "Me either."

They just looked at each other for a second, each unsure of the other's state of mind.

Finally, Alex ran out of patience and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You going to make me do all the work tonight?"

His face broke into a smile as he slid his arms around her waist, holding her tightly. He had to fight back a shudder when his fingers touched the bare skin of her lower back. "I might."

She leaned her head back so she could look him in the face and kissed the side of his jaw playfully. "Oh? Let me know when you decide, ok?" With that, she slipped out of his arms walked into the kitchen. Not that she had anything to do in there, but it was fun to tease him . . .

One of his arms wrapped around her from behind. "I decided," he growled into her ear. "Partners should share the workload, don't you think?" He took a step back, out of the kitchen, pulling her along with the arm he kept around her. "It's only fair."

"Fair, hmm," she said, turning around to face him again. "Well, I'm all for fair play."

He leaned down to finally kiss her. "You want to play, huh?" He could feel her smile against his mouth.

After a few seconds, she pulled back and, running her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, said, "As long as I'm one whole team and you're the other."

He shivered at the light touch of her fingers. "That can be arranged." Enjoying this playful flirting, he grinned and added, "You want to be shirts or skins?"

"Now there's a question I don't answer very often." Moving her arms from his neck to his waist, she hugged him tightly, laying her head against his chest. "Age before beauty, Goren. Lose your shirt."

"Giving orders now, are we?" He leaned his head down until his temple met hers. "Maybe I'm having second thoughts about the whole kissing-a-cop thing."

"I've got a pair of handcuffs around here somewhere . . ." she said thoughtfully. "Don't make me use them. Your shirt," she demanded, taking a step back, holding out a hand, and waiting.

"Mmm." He'd think about the handcuffs later. Keeping his eyes on her, he untucked his shirt and pulled it off quickly, dropping it into her hand. "I think it's very possible that . . ." He drew in a breath when her small hand touched his bare skin. ". . . you're the bossiest woman I've ever had the hots for."

Running her hands up his chest, she gave him a playful leer. "You got a problem with that?"

He shook his head and slowly slid his hand up the back of her shirt. "Not a bit. Everyone knows you wear the pants in our partnership anyway."

It was Alex's turn to shiver at the touch of his hand. "As long as you don't start coming to work in a dress . . ." She stopped, surprised, when his wandering hand smoothly unhooked her bra. "Where'd you learn to do that? I can't even take my own bra off one-handed."

"Natural talent," he mumbled into her hair as he traced a finger down her spine.

"Sure it is." Pushing him back a few inches so he didn't get hit by a flying elbow, she drew her arms into her shirt and slipped the bra off. She pulled it out from under her shirt, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her belly, and draped it over his shoulder with a smirk. "What was that about me wearing the pants?"

"Now that," he said, pulling her back to him and moving his hand from her back to her side, "I could never figure out how to do."

"I don't think it's a skill you'll ever personally need, Bobby." She tugged on his arm, pulling him toward the couch. "Let's sit down; I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you."

He obediently followed her. "I told you we'd have to work on the standing up thing."

She gave him a shove backwards onto the couch. He landed on his back, lengthwise, narrowly missing knocking his head into the arm on one end. "I think between the two of us we'd figure it out pretty quickly," she said as she lowered herself onto the couch more decorously.

He didn't bother to retort, only reached out and pulled her onto his lap. "Ok," he said softly, now able to look into her eyes while he spoke, "I think sitting down works for me too."

She turned herself around so that she was straddling his lap instead of sitting on it. "Hel-lo," she murmured with a raised eyebrow as she settled down. She was amused to see Bobby blush bright red.

"Stop that," he muttered, but with no real heat behind the words.

"Stop what?" she teased, adjusting her weight. "This?"

His only response was a groan as he moved his lips to her neck.

They both froze, wide-eyed, when her apartment buzzer sounded.

"You're the only company I was expecting," she said, forcing herself to pull away.

"So don't answer it," he said, pulling aside the collar of her shirt and kissing the newly-exposed skin.

"It might be a neighbor. I have to check." Using his chest to lever herself up, she handed him his shirt. "Put this back on. I don't want you giving the eighty year-old spinster next door a coronary."

Realizing that he couldn't dissuade her, he sighed and did as she asked, then wandered into her bedroom for good measure.

She checked the peephole: it definitely wasn't her eighty year-old neighbor. No, it was Mike Logan standing outside her door. She tried not to groan as she opened the door a few inches. "What do you want?"

"Now, is that any way to greet a friend, Alex?"

"I'm busy," she said tightly, wishing she could slam the door in his face in good conscience.

"I can see that." At her questioning look, he added, "Your face is red and you're breathing hard."

Setting aside mortification for the moment, she glared at him. "Then why are you still here?"

He grinned deviously. "Got a present for you."

"A present?" she asked, confused. "Why?"

He held out a gold-wrapped box that obviously contained chocolates. It had a small card taped to the top. "Would you believe me if I said it's because I'm madly in love with you?"

"No." She looked down at the box, behind her into the apartment, then back at him. "You just think it's funny to make Bobby think you're chasing me. Jerk."

"Now, why would I want to make him think that?"

Her response was cut off by a voice calling, "Alex!" from the bedroom.

She dropped her head into the door with a solid thunk.

Logan's eyebrows were somewhere around his hairline. "You know," he said coyly, "that sounded like a man's voice. Actually, it sounded kind of familiar . . ."

"I'm going to kill you," she said through gritted teeth, "the second I get a chance."

He gave her one last smirk. "Now, how would that look to IAB? Take the candy, Alex," he said, shoving it into her hands. "I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he turned and retreated down the hallway, leaving Alex to gape at his back.

"Alex," Bobby said again as he walked into the room after he heard the door close. "Neighbor?"

"Um . . ." Shit. Damn it. Shit! I'm going to kill Mike, slowly and painfully! "Yeah. Mrs. Williams comes over for tea sometimes."

"She brought you something?" he said, gesturing to the box she'd forgotten she held in her hands.

"Yeah . . ." If she could get rid of the card, she could hand him the box and not have to worry. She tried to think of a non-obvious way to remove it.

"What's on the card?" Looking like a kid on Christmas, he reached out and grabbed the box from her before she could do anything. "She got a grandson she wants you to . . ." Both his voice and his smile faded as he read the card. "Logan?" he finally said tightly.

"Don't look at me like that. I have no idea why he brought them," she said indignantly, snatching the box back.

"Gee, I don't know, Alex. Could it be because he wants to date you?" He turned around, running a hand through his hair. "Why did you just lie to me about who was at the door?"

She sighed. "Because I knew if I told the truth you'd be pissed, exactly like you are now. It's just a box of chocolates, for god's sake. He knows I'm not interested in him."

"Oh, does he? And that's why he bought you a present?"

She was getting irritated now. Jealousy was emphatically not what she had expected from cool, collected Detective Goren; she thought they'd resolved that issue days ago. "No, he brought me the damn present because he knew it would piss you off!"

"I'm not sure I believe that, Alex," he said with a quiet sigh. "I think . . . I think I should go."

"What? Bobby!" She stared at him. "You seriously think he's competition? Um, whose lap was I on five minutes ago? Not his!"

He just shook his head slowly. "Good night."

"Bobby!" she managed, feeling like she was glued to the floor. "You can't . . .!"

"Good night," he said again, more quietly, just before he pulled the door shut behind him.

Alex hurled a shoe at the closed door.

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A/N: Oh come on, there's so much case left, I can't resolve all the tension between them yet! It wouldn't be any fun!

A/N 2: For anyone who doesn't know, "shirts and skins" refers to how guys (or intrepid girls, I suppose) often mark teams in pick-up basketball (maybe other sports?) games. The "shirts" keep their shirts, whatever they happen to have on, on. The "skins" go shirtless. That way you can quickly tell which team a guy is on even without uniforms.