Author's note: Another chapter with a smut warning. If you'd like to avoid the smut it's enclosed in the bracketed sections.

John raised an eyebrow as he stepped to the side to let her in. "You baked me cookies?"

She walked past him and set the foil covered plate and the wine bottle on the coffee table. "Well the kids did most of the baking," she said smiling shyly, "it's this bizarre family tradition we have now where we all spend Thanksgiving at my mom's place baking the first round of Christmas cookies. And I mean, we're talking baking on a truly massive scale because Jess flew in with her girls and then there's Jonas and Linda and all of us adults. I think we went through like six pounds of butter. It's insane. So anyway we had plenty to spare." She gestured towards the plate she'd brought.

"That's kinda sweet though," he said, shutting the door behind her.

"Well the weird part is who started it," she said bending over to unwrap the plate. "It was Kevin."

"Kevin bakes?" he asked trying to picture this in his mind.

"He does now," she said shaking her head in amusement. "I don't know how well you remember but he can be a little high strung sometimes and he has some problems with his blood pressure these days. Apparently about four years ago someone told him that baking was a good way to relax and he got all the kids caught up in it and… anyway it's fun."

"Sounds that way," he said smiling back at her and walking closer to her. He felt strangely awkward, not clear of where they stood, not sure whether kissing her hello would be appropriate although he certainly wanted to. "I uh… didn't pack my wine glasses," he said motioning towards the bottle.

"Well Roxy stocks the room with little plastic cups, right?" she asked, "If she didn't I can go get some from the supply closet downstairs. Or we can just drink right from the bottle, I'm really not proud."

"I think there might actually be a couple of real glasses in the bathroom," he said going to check. When he returned after rinsing out the glasses she had turned down the lights in the room and was sitting on the couch struggling to open the bottle with a corkscrew from her keychain. She smiled up at him and blushed a little. If her intention was to seduce him it was strange she should seem so nervous considering how bold she'd been the night before.

"You want me to give that a try?" he asked reaching for the wine bottle.

She hesitated but handed it over. "I've gotten too used to the crank bottle opener we have at Rodi's," she said apologetically.

"It was nice of you to bring the wine," he said.

She shrugged, "Jess and Nash send me cases of the stuff. It's theirs, you know."

"Really?" he said taking a second look at the label.

"Yeah, and Mom doesn't drink and there's only so much I can drink on my own without feeling like a wino. So… this one's my favorite. It's a Viognier which is… well I have no idea what it is," she said, "but don't tell them I said that. But it's pretty good."

"I'm sure it is," he said pulling on the corkscrew. She was definitely nervous—she was rambling. "And the cookies-- I don't get homemade cookies very often."

"Well don't tell Jonas I brought you these because these are the ones he decided were too misshapen for public viewing. I had to promise they wouldn't leave the kitchen. He's very particular. Worries to no end that the girls are going to mess something up."

"So he's the only boy?" John asked pouring wine into the glasses.

"Joe has a little boy, Joey, who's five, but we don't see much of him because they're in London. And there's Duke, of course, but he's basically a different generation," she said mentally running the Buchanan family.

"Yeah, he has a son too now, right?" he said recalling something he'd read.

She smiled, "You've been reading the tabloids."

"Only in check out lines," he assured her. "Kinda catches you're attention when you see a name you know."

"Well the paternity case has not yet been decided," she said, "but yeah, the kid's probably his. But anyway, you don't really want to hear the full Buchanan family role call."

He handed her a glass and said, "You can talk about anything you want to talk about. I just like hearing the sound of your voice."

She blushed again and turned her attention to the glass in her hand. "Well should we toast?"

He raised his glass. "To the best Thanksgiving I've had in a long time."

She clinked her glass against his and raised an eyebrow over her glass as she took a sip of the wine. "Dinner at the Palace that good, huh?"

"It was good," he said, "but I was mostly referring to before that."

"Oh really?" she said with feigned innocence.

He nodded. "And then after that a beautiful woman showed up at my place with wine and cookies." He reached down and took a cookie from the plate.

"Beautiful?" she asked.

He reached out for her hand and kissed it. "Very. In fact," he said raising his glass again, "I'd like to toast to her."

"Okay," she said with an almost girlish giggle raising her glass.

"To the woman who intoxicates me more than this wine," he said touching his glass to hers.

"I have a toast too," she said as he took a sip.

"Okay," he said holding his glass up again.

"To Saint Anthony."

"Saint Anthony?"

"Saint Anthony," she repeated pulling a medallion from underneath her top.

He looked at her in surprise. "You know, for someone who isn't Catholic you know a lot about random saints."

"Someone gave this to me," she explained. "This random woman at street market in south Texas. Patron saint of lost things. And she gave it to me because she said she could tell I'd lost something. I've been wearing this ever since. And it took him a while, but he finally brought me back what I lost." Her eyes glistened as she said this, as though she were holding in tears.

He clinked his glass against hers, took a sip and then said, "You know, you never really lost me."

Her lower lip quivered and he could tell she was about to cry so he took her hand again and pulled her closer so that he could kiss her. She kissed him back, gently, almost tentatively, but she let slide his tongue inside her mouth, deepening the kiss. It was true, she made his head swim in a way no alcohol ever had.

She finally ended the kiss but didn't move back to her side of the couch. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her even closer so that she was nestled up against him. "The wine's good," he said after a moment. "The cookies too. Send my compliments to the chefs."

"I will," she said, "or you can tell them yourself tomorrow, they'll all be helping Roxy decorate."

"Yeah she said that," he said, "she's quite the doting grandmother."

"So you got to see all the pictures of Sophie, too?" she said.

"Yeah," he said, "so her mother…"

"Isn't anyone you know," Natalie supplied, "not anyone I knew, anyway. Hell, I don't think she was anyone Rex knew to be honest about it. Apparently he was in crisis about something or other and he got wasted and… few months later… only my brother."

"Sounds like the Rex I remember," he said.

"Yeah," she sighed, "he tries to be a good guy- he is a good guy, you know, he just messes up. And when he messes up he usually does so on a massive scale. But I will say this for him, he's a great father."

"Well that's important," he said.

"It is," she agreed, "I'm proud of him." She reached for a cookie and took a bite of it; he felt her posture tighten slightly under his arm and realized she had something more serious to say. "So he called me after dinner," she said, "said you had some questions."

"Yeah," he said slowly.

"Any reason you decided to ask my drunken stepmother instead of me?" she asked.

He didn't say anything; they both knew the reason but he couldn't bring himself to admit it out loud.

"It was because you thought she was more likely to slip up and say something," she answered for him.

"That was part of it," he admitted.

"Well she would be," Natalie said turning her head to look at him, "which is why she doesn't know anything."

"I figured that out," he said. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I understand why you have questions," she said, her tone was a bit business-like, but at least it didn't sound angry, "I just- You've changed, John."

Had he? He hadn't been aware of changing, but it had been nine years; she had certainly changed. She continued, "You used to be so quiet and internalized. Now all of a sudden you're so open and you're kinda pushy and that used to be my job."

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"No," she said, "you just- you kinda threw me. I mean, what happened to you, John?"

He thought for a moment and then said quietly, "Her name was Vanessa."

He felt her stiffen immediately and smiled to feel her react this way at the mention of another woman even if her reaction was a bit misguided. "She was ten," he added holding back a laugh.

"Oh," she said relaxing somewhat, "picking them young these days are you, McBain?"

"Funny," he said kissing the side of her face. "No it was right after I started with the DEA—right after I got to Peru. One of the agents who'd been there for a while took me with her to meet with one of her informants. And so we're waiting at this café for this person to show up and this tiny little girl shows up and starts offering to shine my shoes. And I'm trying to lose the kid 'cause I think we're waiting for this guy to show up and all of a sudden this woman I'm with she just starts laughing and tells the kid to leave me alone and have a seat. The kid was the informant."

"You guys use kids as informants?" she asked. He could hear the protective maternal instinct rising into her voice coupled with that of a woman who knew too well how bad operations like this could go.

"We use whoever we can," he said knowing it sounded harsh, but all too accustomed to the reality. "But this kid was something else--I wish you could have met her. Father was disappeared when she was a baby, either by the police or by the army, no one really knows. Her mother was a maid who had to just leave the kids at home by themselves to go to work. And this kid this ten-year-old was the primary bread winner for the family shining shoes and selling chocolates to tourists."

"The poor thing," she said sympathetically.

"But that was just it—she didn't think so. She was all smiles and laughter and everything right there on the surface. Took everything in stride. She thought I was the funniest thing she'd ever seen because my Spanish was so bad. And it just… You know, I spent most of my life brooding, feeling sorry for myself and I didn't have half the reason she did. I kept trying to shut myself off and what good did it do me?"

"You were just trying to protect yourself," Natalie said taking a sip of her wine. He wondered from her tone if she was talking about him or about herself.

"Maybe," he said, "but it cost me a lot more than it helped."

"Where's Vanessa now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, "she wasn't my informant so I had no further contact with her. But she just really stayed in my mind. 'Course it took me forever to figure out why or to learn anything from the experience, but yeah, I think that's what made me reexamine certain things."

She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "So I owe all of this to another woman, huh?"

"I guess so," he smiled back. Then sobering he added, "But Natalie, I want to be honest. There have been other women—none of them serious but-"

"I figured," she said, "it's not like I've taken an oath of celibacy either. Although, with my schedule, with Jonas, it's felt that way sometimes. Just as well, I never had much luck with men." She hugged her knees to her chest and shuddered; he tried to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged it away. He looked at her for a moment, trying to decipher which ghost was haunting her.

"What did he do to you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Who?" she asked looking bewildered.

"Jonas's father."

That look of fear washed over her face briefly again but she shook her head and said, "No, not him. I gave as good as I got with that. Trust me."

She allowed herself to relax back against him and they sat together in silence for a moment before he hesitantly said, "You've changed too."

"I had to," she said simply.

"You went through a lot," he said, "and some of that was my fault."

She shook her head. "It wasn't that. Maybe a little bit, but mostly it was Jonas. When he came into my life I just realized that he had to take priority over everything else. And that meant that I had to be careful and I couldn't let my emotions drive me the way I used to. Like this morning when you told me you loved me-"

"Shh," he whispered in her ear, "we don't have to talk about that."

"Yes we do," she insisted. "As much as I'd like to avoid it… I've been avoiding things like that for a long time now. Thinking somehow I could get through this weekend without facing the fact that I still love you-"

"Natalie," he said stroking her hair, trying to sooth her as he felt her becoming more agitated.

"But like I said I can't live my life by the way I feel anymore," she said her voice cracking slightly, "and I keep thinking about it and I can't see how it's going to work."

"If this is about Jonas," he said rubbing her shoulder, "I'd love to get to know him better-"

"It's more about you living hundreds of miles away and the fact that it could be nine years before I see you again," she said.

"I don't think I could go that long without seeing you again," he assured her.

"But you're still so far away—I just don't see how we can get around that," she said a tear rolling down her cheek.

He brushed it away with his thumb, "Well I figure if we can get through everything we have already, we should be able to work around that. My assignment in Louisiana is over in a year and after that maybe I can get something closer or-"

She turned and brought a hand to his lips. "We can't rush into anything—we're not going to come up with a solution tonight. We both have things to think about. And there are things you need to know."

He nodded, not saying anything, waiting for her to continue. She stared into his eyes for a long moment before saying, "I know you have questions, John. And I'll answer them. But not tonight."

"I can wait," he said.

"Can you?" she pressed, "Can you wait until I'm ready to tell you? Will you stop bugging everyone else for answers that they don't have anyway?"

"I'll wait for you," he said stroking her silky hair, "whenever you're ready."

Her eyes filled with tears again. "I don't deserve you."

He set his glass on the coffee table so he could have both hands free. Cupping her face in both hands he said, "No. You deserve better."

She shut both of her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks; he kissed each eyelid as though that would somehow magically stop the tears. She went nearly limp in his arms. He took the glass from her hand and set it beside his before it had a chance to slip to the floor and then he took her mouth with his own. Even as her body remained motionless he felt her lips respond to his, part eagerly to allow him to enter, her tongue tasting his.

Slowly as the kiss deepened he felt strength return to her arms—as if the kiss were refilling her body with life. Her arms slid up his to wrap around the back of his head. He let his own arms drop down her body to refasten around her waist giving him the leverage to pull her into his lap.

Smut warning>

She sat straddling him, kissing him more eagerly as his hands roamed up and down her body. They glided down her legs, pulling off her shoes then running back up her body to caress her breasts. Her lips left his as her head tilted back and she gasped feeling him squeeze them through her clothes. As his hand slid back down to the hem of her top she seemed to have the same idea and began to pull his shirt out of his pants. She stopped just long enough to lift her arms and let him raise her top over her head before setting to work on the buttons of his shirt.

Kissing her again while she blindly fumbled to open his shirt he slid his hand up her legs again, under her skirt, and up over the lacy tops of her stockings until he felt bare flesh. Cautiously he slid one hand under the elastic edge of her panties and raked one finger over her center, already moist with desire. She let out a plaintive whimper in response and yanked his shirt over his shoulders. As he shrugged it off she breathed in his ear, "So I guess we're done talking?"

"Unless you want to stop," he offered with a grin.

She pulled back enough that she could look him in the eyes, her forehead still touching his. "Don't you dare," she growled.

At this invitation he deftly scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He placed her down gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. He lifted one of her legs and kissing the place where bare flesh met black stocking said with a smirk, "I'll try to be gentle with them this time."

Natalie giggled as she watched him slowly peel each stocking down her legs. Then she eagerly lifted her hips to allow him to remove her skirt. He lowered his head to the now bare flesh at her right hip and sucked at it gently. Her body arched impatiently against him and he grasped the top of her panties, finally sliding them off.

Still holding her hips in place he positioned himself between her legs and dipped his head down between them, literally breathing in her desire for him. He ran his tongue along the slick folds at her core and felt her legs jerk in reaction. Her hands grasped desperately at his hair as he continued to taste her, pleasure her, probing with his lips and tongue until he felt her entire body convulse with orgasm.

Watching her lie gasping as she rode out her first climax he rose and unfastened the buckle of his pants. By the time he reached to unbutton them Natalie's hands were already joining his, pulling at his zipper as he unfastened her bra which he had carelessly forgotten to remove earlier. He took one taut nipple into his mouth as she reached her hand inside his now open pants to grasp him. He groaned in response and pushed his pants and boxers down and stepped out of them quickly.

Catching him off balance she pulled him down on the bed and positioned herself above him bracing herself with a hand on either side of his head. She gave him one more burning kiss before taking him in her hand again and guiding him into her. His hands found her hips and held her as she took him deeper inside herself and rode him until they reached the brink together and she collapsed exhausted on his chest.

end smut section>

Natalie laughed so hard she almost spit out the bite of cookie she'd just taken. "You're kidding!"

"No," he said taking a swallow of wine that was still good even if it had gotten luke warm during their diversion. "I mean I'd looked it up in the dictionary but apparently what I said to him was my refrigerator is unemployed."

"What did he say?" she asked.

He laughed. "Poor guy, he was so confused he just left."

Natalie giggled as she brushed crumbs off the sheets; looking over she saw John looking at her intently. "What?" she asked feeling suddenly self-conscious.

He reached up to touch her face, "I just never thought I'd get to see you laugh again."

She smiled and leaned over to kiss him, "Well it feels good to laugh with you again."

"Uh huh?" he asked kissing her back.

"Um hm," she murmured, "but I have to go."

"Already?" he groaned.

"'Fraid so," she said as she untangled herself from the sheets, "but I'll be back here early in the morning. I have to chaperone Roxy's decorating party with the kids. Come down and join us if you feel up to hanging pink boa."

"I just might do that," he said watching her get dressed.

"You don't really have a choice," she said with a grin, "Roxy knows where you're sleeping."

He was awakened by a knock on the door. A glance at the clock revealed he'd slept longer than he'd intended. He pulled on his pants as he stumbled to the door and opened it before he could think to check through the peep hole.

As the door swung open he was shocked to find himself on the receiving end of that all too familiar icy stare from a pair of blue eyes. He blinked at Jonas, trying to clear the sleep from his brain and eyes. "Jonas?" he asked, "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

Jonas kept his gaze steady and said firmly, "I just want to make sure you know. If you hurt my mom, you're going to have to deal with me."

To be continued.

Author's note 2: Crumbs in the sheets dedicated to Tina. Clean parts of the story dedicated to the real Vanessa who had a very similar effect on my life (and who is not a DEA informant to my knowledge).