A/N: Well, it's short, but at least it exists. I think we're getting near the end of this one...maybe one or two more chapters. Enjoy :)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took Bobby a few seconds to realize that he'd just been abandoned in the middle of the room. When it finally hit him, he made a mental note to find a way to get back at Annie and then allowed himself to slump against the wall and think for a moment.

He hadn't noticed any of the things she had mentioned, so either he wasn't as observant as he thought, or his friend was wrong. His ego demanded he figure out which.

He needed to look again. Find Alex, see if he could pick up on this "melting" thing.

Squaring his shoulders, he headed for where he'd last seen her, at the bar.

And there she was, the same way he'd found her a few hours ago - bare back facing the room as she leaned over the bar to say something amusing to Oli. He hung back for a moment, trying to pick out whatever it was that Annie had noticed in her, but he saw essentially the same thing he'd seen every day for five years: an attractive woman chatting calmly with another person, making no overt moves to get closer or farther away.

Reminding himself that she'd been accepting his outrageous behavior all night already, he took a deep breath, sidled up behind her, and before Oli could give her a warning, slid both arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

Alex stiffened as if she'd been shot, then immediately relaxed and leaned back against him when she recognized that the hands on her were his. She twisted her head to try to see his face, but he kept just out of her line of sight. "Bobby! What was that for?" she asked breathlessly when she realized he wouldn't let her turn around see him.

Breathless is good, right? he thought.

"Just checking," he said, trying to sound light-hearted.

"Checking what?"

"Looks to me like he's checking you're still going home with him tonight," Oli said with a grin.

Alex gave Oli a threatening look, then tried another tactic and leaned her head backwards, looking at Bobby upside-down. "Well?"

"I was going to . . . uh, I mean . . . would you like to dance?"

She suddenly found herself more interested. He'd almost lost his habit of stammering over the course of the night, at least when speaking to her, but now it was back. She wondered what had triggered the regression . . .

"Alex?" he said, his arms tightening around her. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you. Sure, let's dance." And with that, she took a deep breath, stole a glance at Oli, who was grinning like an idiot, and slid off the stool into Bobby's arms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Flirting with Oli again, I see?" he said as he wrapped his arms around her again on the dance floor.

She leaned into him and shrugged. "He makes a mean chocolate martini."

"A martini can't be chocolate," he protested with complete seriousness. "Martinis are made from gin and vermouth, and -"

"It can when Oli makes it. And I wasn't flirting with him, anyway. More like whining to him."

"Whining?" he echoed, suddenly worried. "About what? What's wrong? I thought you were having a good time."

She sighed. "I am having a good time. I just . . . your friends all seem so excited to see you with someone they think you love, and I started feeling guilty."

"But . . . guilty?" he said, staring down at her. "They're happy, I'm happy, what's to feel guilty about?"

"I'm a fake," she said with an awkward half-shrug.

He allowed his hand to trail down her back until it rested just on the edge of decency. "You're not a fake," he countered, pulling her closer. "You're exactly what they think you are . . ." Hmm, he needed a deep breath before continuing with that sentence. He inhaled, exhaled, and went on, ". . . exactly what they think you are - a beautiful, sharp-witted woman who puts up with me for some godforsaken reason." He was pretty sure she caught her breath at the word beautiful.

"Bobby, don't." Despite the protest inherent in her words, she moved closer rather than pulling away, letting her head rest against him.

"Don't what?"

"Don't put yourself down. It's ridiculous."

"I could say the same for you."

She sighed. "I'm not putting myself down. I'm . . . oh, I don't know."

He took his hand away from her back and replaced it under her chin, tiling her head up so he could look her in the eye. "Why don't you tell me what's really wrong."

"It's . . . not important."

"Seems pretty damn important to you, Eames. Come on," he said, pulling her off the dance floor and toward the door to the ballroom.

"What?" she managed as he towed her along.

"We need to talk."

That got her attention. Digging in her heels, she tried to hide the discomfort in her voice as she said, "No we don't. We're here so you can have fun; stop overanalyzing what I may or may not be worrying about."

"No."

"Bobby!"

He ignored her protestations and led her into a semi-deserted room that looked like it was a cocktail lounge in its waking hours. "Sit," he ordered, giving her a gentle push toward a loveseat-sized chair.

With a sigh, she sat and glared up at him. "What the hell's going on with you?"

"Annie talked to you?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

She tensed. "A lot of people have talked to me. Why?"

"What did she say to you?"

Alex rolled her eyes, suddenly realizing that she knew what this was probably about. "Calm down, would you? I already met one of your exes tonight, and I didn't kill her even though I think she's a skank. Annie's perfectly safe from me."

He blinked. "Huh? Oh, her and me? That's not what I meant. I want to know what else she told you."

She gulped. "What do you mean, 'what else'? It was just, you know, girl stuff."

"Did she mention me?"

"Of course she did; you're the connection between us. Where are you going with this, Bobby?"

Without warning, he plopped down next to her on the seat, making her jump. "Can I ask you something?"

"You've been asking me various 'something's for the past ten minutes. Knock yourself out."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," she said, crossing her arms and slumping back in the chair. "Go ahead and ask."

"What does it mean to say that a woman 'melts' at something someone else does?"

She looked at him in consternation. Of all the possible questions she had thought he might come out with, that was not one of them. "Uh . . . usually it either means that she's incredibly pissed - as in, 'having a meltdown' - or else that she's, uh, maybe touched? I can't think of the right word for it. Happy. Soft."

"So if someone said 'She almost melted when you did X,' . . . it would be a good thing?"

"Where the hell are you going with this, Bobby? I need context if you want an accurate answer."

Context was the one thing he was not going to give her, at least until he was sure of what was going on. "Just take a guess."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, then my guess is 'yes.' If they only said 'melted' and not 'melted down' or something, it's probably good. Now, who melted and what did you do?"

"Um."

She cleared her throat and looked at him expectantly.

"What did Annie say to you about me?" he said, rather than answer her question.

"She said, uh . . ." Alex thought furiously for safe topics. "She said you were oblivious to how much her husband looks like you. And that you and I have been clinging together all night."

"That's it?"

"Why are you asking me all this? Did she say something to you?" she shot back.

"She . . ."

Alex hoped her face wasn't turning as red as it felt like it was. "What did she tell you?"

He leaned forward, studying her face. She got the distinct impression that he was reading her like a book, blush or no blush. "She told me . . . uh . . . well, she didn't say anything specific about . . ."

"Bobby."

"She just said I should reconsider my opinion of why you've been . . . so attentive all night."

"Oh? And what was her opinion, then?"

"She . . ." He sighed. "Can I try something?"

"Why does that sound slightly ominous?" They were sitting in a deserted room; how many types of "something" were there that he could want to try? She wondered if her imagination was just running wild tonight or if he might really do what she suspected he was thinking.

"It's not. Well, I don't think it is . . ." He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Can I?"

She gave him a tired look. "Go ahead. I'll tell you if I change my mind."

"Um . . . ok." He licked his lips nervously. "You'll tell me if you want me to stop?"

"Bobby," she said through teeth that she was trying not to grit, "just get it over with."

"Sorry." He took a deep breath. "You . . . the melting thing . . . she said that, uh, at dinner . . ." He caught the glare she was directing at him and stopped. "Sorry," he said again. Then, moving hesitantly as if he feared she was about to jump up and run at any second, he laid his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and urged her toward him.

This was really happening, Alex thought as she allowed him to control her movement. Or had Oli spiked her last drink? "Bobby?" she whispered nervously, only an inch away from him now.

"She said you melted," he said softly, moving his other hand up to cradle the back of her head. "When I . . ." He stopped short and, with a determined effort, pushed the words away and leaned forward the last few millimeters until his lips met hers.

Alex stiffened for a second at the contact, her lips closed tightly under his . . .

And then the sensation of his large, warm hand on her bare back and his equally large, warm mouth against her lips penetrated her brain and she sagged into his arms with a quiet gasp.

"Alex . . ." he breathed against her mouth as her arms stole around him. "She said . . . you melted . . ."

Her only answer was a shiver as she leaned into him.