Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Knight Rider characters. Glen A. Larson and Universal do. I'm not making any money on this. It's just for fun.

A/N: I really didn't mean to leave Face of a Nightmare this long. I have the next chapter mostly written, but I haven't had time to finish it, and then this story idea came along. I hope to get it done soon.

This story's a one-shot. If you're bothered by the idea of an older man with a much younger woman, you probably want to give it a pass.

The Demands of Propriety

It had been a mistake.

Devon shifted positions again, careful not to disturb the woman sleeping next to him. He glanced at the clock on the bed stand and silently groaned – 3:30 in the morning and he'd been tossing and turning for the last hour. He just couldn't quiet his mind enough to sleep, couldn't stop mulling over the situation.

It had all been a mistake, and he'd known that from the start. It wasn't that he didn't care about her – he cared more than he was ready to admit. If he'd been honest with himself from the beginning, he'd have known this was bound to end badly. But her attention had been flattering. She was a beautiful, younger woman and for God knew what reason, she was interested in him. He should have walked away. He should have done what was right, what propriety demanded, but he hadn't. He'd allowed his good sense to be swept away by his attraction to her.

Devon had always found strong women particularly appealing. There was nothing that caught his attention faster than a brash woman who could put him in his place when necessary. He wanted someone who wasn't afraid to challenge him and who was more than willing to fight for something she believed in. He'd always been looking for an equal, not someone who'd cow to his authority.

And he hadn't been disappointed.

She held her own in a career field dominated by men who weren't used to listening to women. She'd made a name for herself in an area of study that was not considered woman's work. She was smart, determined, independent, and headstrong, and she'd needed every bit of it to get where she was. All of which left him with the fear that with an indiscrete word or a careless phrase, he could inadvertently wipe away the respect she'd worked so hard to earn.

Not since Claire, the woman he'd fallen in love with in France during the War, had he been in a relationship with such an imbalance of power. With Claire it had been the fact that he knew he'd soon be leaving. She was alone in an occupied country, and he had only been in Paris for a short time. They had been in love, but circumstances were beyond their control. She knew that he was committed to being a soldier -- sadly, more so than he was committed to being with her. He couldn't have left the service, but even if he'd had that option, he wouldn't have. Throughout his life he'd been more committed to ideals, to principles, than he had been to love. He remembered how guilty he felt about that. It had been part of the reason he'd decided to end it.

And here he was in the same sort of situation all over again. Only this time the imbalance came from his age and position. At first he'd scoffed at the idea of a relationship between them. The age difference was too unseemly. He could just imagine the rumors and innuendo if they'd seen each other openly. But there was an undeniable attraction. He'd first met her at the company Christmas party -- been introduced to her by Wilton himself. As he'd gotten to know her further, as he'd started to discover all her wonderful qualities, he'd let his guard down. He couldn't help being smitten and flattered by her attention. It had proven to be too much of a temptation for him to resist.

Devon rolled over so that he could study her face. She was sleeping peacefully, her breathing slow and even. The satin strap of her camisole had slipped down her arm and he carefully slid it back into place over her shoulder.

It made him feel ill to think of what revealing their relationship would do to her reputation. He was a well-off, older man and she was young, beautiful woman just starting out. People would see her as only a step above a prostitute – a gold digger. The irony was that most of the ill sentiment would fall on her. The worst people would think of him was that he was an old goat. Or that he was foolish in falling under the spell of an unscrupulous woman. At best, there would be winks and nudges, the smirk of people who thought they knew the situation when they so thoroughly did not. And all of that made him feel guilty. It made him want to shield and protect her. But aside from being discreet, it was not in his power to do so.

If that were all it was, the cruel talk of insensitive people, he would be willing to try to learn to live with it. He was sure it would make her angry to have to put up with those sorts of whispers, but one of her charms was that she was strong enough to see her way past that sort of thing. She wouldn't let that dictate their relationship. She'd said as much. It was a quality he envied – he didn't find it nearly so easy to brush off criticism of that sort. He did care what other people thought. She'd had years of practice in bucking tradition in order to get what she wanted. Despite his longer life, he'd spent much of it doing what was expected of him -- what was proper.

And if their relationship hadn't been proper before, it certainly wouldn't be now.

What bothered him was that he hadn't seen it coming. In his position, he was not in charge of hiring or firing, especially not in her department. She had supervisors and managers who did eventually fall under his prevue, but not directly. He was too far above her in the company – not involved at her level of detail. It had given him the rationalization he'd needed.

But not anymore.

When it came to the Foundation, Wilton had taken a more hands-on approach than he had with Knight Industries. He'd insisted on making all the major staffing decisions. Devon knew he was going to be in charge of that branch of the organization, but he'd had very little say in the hiring of personnel. He didn't even really have much input into who KITT's driver would be. And that man or woman would be the centerpiece of the whole project. But his jaw had dropped when he saw the organizational chart and her name was on it. Wilton hadn't consulted with him in any way, and yet if their relationship came to light, no one would believe that. Wilton himself would probably have Devon's head for it.

The whole situation was a mess in the making, and he knew what he needed to do. She'd worked too hard to get where she was. He couldn't allow their relationship to damage her career. Devon hoped that he could end it amicably and that she wouldn't leave. But she had the right to know exactly what their relationship would be before making her decision about accepting or rejecting the job.

He couldn't carry on a relationship under the soon-to-be circumstances. Dating a direct subordinate was not a line he would cross.

Principle before love.

Even when it hurt like bloody hell.

Devon reached over and tucked a section of hair behind her ear. She stirred, opened her slate blue eyes, and blinked at him groggily.

"What are you doing awake?" she asked, yawning.

"I can't seem to fall back to sleep," he said honestly.

She propped her head up on her hand and studied him with more alert eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, my dear."

She looked at him doubtfully, but now was not the time to get into this. It was a discussion for tomorrow. Let her have one more night of peace, he thought.

Devon stroked her cheekbone lightly with his thumb. "It's nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep, Bonnie."