Author's Note: Okay guys! yet another update on this one. Please R&R and let us know what you think. on.the.edge.x and Angel422

Jude...

Let's face it: there is absolutely nothing worthwhile to watch on the tube at seven in the evening, let alone on a weekday. But here I was, listening to the opening jingle of Jeopardy! while lounging on my very abused couch in my comfiest pair of sweat pants. My clothing choice had absolutely nothing to do with who was supposed to show up at my door in fifteen minutes. It's okay for a girl to get sick of skin tight pants every once in a while in favor of something more comfortable and--gasp!--unfashionable.

"And here's our host, Alex Trebek!"

To be honest, I hate this show--probably because I never know the correct answers. But what normal person would? The only time this information will ever be useful to me is if I am actually on Jeopardy! at some point in the future, which is about as likely to happen as Jessica Simpson learning that Chicken of the sea isn't the white meat variety Colonel Sanders promotes. Especially now that Nick Lachey is not in her life to explain these little inconspicuous details. Hmmm….

My mental rant against intelligence-based game shows was interrupted by the all too familiar chime of the doorbell, and I groaned—too lazy to care what was behind the enclosure. Figuring it was the pizza that Sadie had ordered earlier, I remained where I was. When the doorbell rang again, I finally conceded to the fact that Sadie was too full of toxic hair spray fumes to actually answer the door herself so I grudgingly got up and moved toward it—shoving a loose strand of hair, that had fallen out of the clip I had shoved it in earlier, out of my face as I jerked the door open with features schooled in a disgruntled mess only to find myself face to face with none other than the newest James Bond himself—that myriad man of mystery whose life I had already decided needed a little, I don't know, hell in it.

"Jude, hi…" Tommy began before pausing instantly to take in my attire. The pause quickly passed as Tom raised a brow at me before smirking in that all too arrogant way of his-- made worse simply by the fact that I was tired.

"You ready to go?" He proceeded to ask, knowing I was anything but. I hate it when people say stuff like that just to try and get a rise out of you. Well, guess what, Quincy? I'm not playing your game anymore. You're playing mine.

Not even bothering to answer, I shut the door in his face and returned to my previous position on the couch. Thankfully, my mom wasn't here any more--she would've been appalled at my manners. Then again, her recent manners were anything but traditional. That, however, is a completely screwed up story made just for one of those weepy lifetime movies. Hmmm…maybe I should try and sell it?

The doorbell rang again. Damn, the man was persistent! Oh well. Again, I didn't move, but the ringing of the doorbell continued with more than a little force necessary to pursue the task. 'You break it, you buy it,' I mentally chirped to my new producer/boss. I could hear Sadie getting irritated upstairs as she finally looked over the side of the stairway at my prone position on the couch and sighed. Hey, if she wanted the noise to stop, she could answer it herself. At this point, I was just enjoying taunting the man on the other side. I grinned as I stared at the TV while listening to Sadie flounce down the stairs pointedly. Had Alex Trebek done something different with his hair? I heard the door open, and I waited for the inevitable squeal from Sadie--almost looking over my shoulder when it never came. Almost. Hmmm….I guess maturity does finally come to some people even late in life. I shrugged to myself—only to freeze in the awkward position when Tom Quincy suddenly blocked my view of the TV.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be here until 7:15." I commented casually, noticing the slight hardening of his jaw as he fought the smile that tugged playfully at the corner of his mouth. Obviously someone was used to getting his way without any opposition. Mwahaha. God, I was horrible. I smiled cattily. Why is it that I found it hard to follow this man's orders? Oh yeah, maybe it was because every time I saw him I was reminded of the bandana-wearing, booty-shaking ex-boy-bander that Sadie still tormented me with at times. Can anyone say limited edition DVDs? I shuddered.

"I had a feeling I might run into some...difficulties." He replied while stressing the word 'difficulties' as if that was some sort of description of someone he might know. I looked over my shoulder before looking back at him and pointing at my chest. Who me? Hah!

"Maybe you should just avoid your 'difficulties'--it might be easier, less stressful. In fact, I think I see a couple of wrinkles on your forehead already. I have some anti-aging cream upstairs. Sadie's trying to avoid the passing of time." I explained smugly counting on the fact that age quips might bother him. Tommy was a bona fide hottie, no doubt about it, but hey, we all grow old sooner or later.

"Go get dressed, Jude." Tom demanded irritably as I threw him a 'somebody is touchy' look.

"Sometime in this millennium would be preferable, Harrison." He tacked on, seeing that I wasn't making any effort to move from my spot on the couch.

"I thought sweatpants and a T-shirt qualified as articles of clothing, Tom? Oh, that's right, your generation prefers knee britches and cloaks with horses as the main mode of transportation--sorry, I forgot." I retorted ironically as Tommy's humor fled. Okay, I may have over stepped the boundaries just a little. Sue me. I wasn't exactly peachy about the idea of being forced to work on what was supposed to be my time off when poster boy hadn't even given me a clue as to what we were doing. At least Darius gave me enough respect to inform me of my duties ahead of time. I was just showing Tom that if I couldn't be respected that he couldn't expect the same treatment in return. Hmmm…he looked good angry. Bleck, what was I thinking? Besides I should get kudos for the history quip.

Tom just grinned at me wickedly. Shit! I had a feeling he was about to pull one of those aces out of his sleeves.

"You know, there's a policy at Galaxy Studios that all cars still in the parking lot past 10 o'clock will be towed." Tommy remarked authoritatively as I just gaped in his general direction. He wouldn't!

"Unless, of course, there's authorization from moi." Tommy finished as I narrowed my eyes. Why that little sneaky son of a bi…..

"You wouldn't dare, Quincy!" I countered uncertainly as I sat up straighter on the couch. Damn, he had gotten me to actually move. But that was my Mustang he was talking about. I had feelings for that thing as deeply embedded as that Viper seemed to hold for him.

"Oh, trust me, I would. But only if you make me late for the show--and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Tommy replied confidently, knowing he had me beat. I mean, come on…it was my Mustang. Now would be a good time to admit he was good—really good. Those aces kept piling up. Hah! Now I knew his reasoning for dropping me off at home instead of at the studio. He was like a friggin' kidnapper asking for ransom.

"Fine. Is there anything particular I should wear, Darth Vader. It'd help if I knew our destination." I conceded carefully as I stood up slowly. Tom just shrugged.

"It's a surprise. Just wear something you would go out in public in." Tommy answered, avoiding my obvious attempt to garner information. Ugh! I just rolled my eyes as I brushed past him reluctantly before disappearing up the stairs. Something I'd go out in public in huh? Coming back down the stairs only minutes later, I reveled in my choice of costume—the tiniest mini skirt I could find, a really tight corset top, and--never one to only go halfway--strappy four-inch heels. Although the heels made me realize quite effectively that there was a good reason I stuck to my Converse.

It seemed funny to me that Tom kept shaking his head as he caught a glimpse of me even though his eyes sparkled at the choice. He couldn't be attracted to me, could he? Uh wow! That was a thought, and here I had worn it just to prove the point that he had said 'anything' I'd go out in public in.

"Girl, no way. Go change." Tommy ordered as his gaze slowly traveled the length of my legs, before pausing at the top of the corset—taking the time to remember to breathe as his eyes finally met with mine. Okay, that had been…wow! I felt powerful all of a sudden…maybe even a little stunned by his perusal and more than a little warm. This was wrong.

"Why? What's wrong with this outfit? I'd wear it in public..." I remarked with a pout, knowing that in actuality I would never be caught dead in this get up. I preferred to let Britney and Christina rock this look.

"Because I'm not going to be your bodyguard tonight, and if you wear that you're definitely going to need one." He returned with a surprisingly stern look. Okay, the clothes felt too scarce all of sudden as I turned back toward the upper floor—feeling Tommy's eyes on my derriere as I stepped upward. Why did the word bodyguard suddenly take on a whole new meaning for me? Jesus! I just needed to clear my head is all. Eventually, I descended the stairs again in an apparently appropriate ensemble, because Tommy nodded his head in approval and we were suddenly on our way to God knows where.

Tommy...

As the buildings sped by, Tommy noticed Jude fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat, most likely because she didn't know where they were going. Inwardly he smiled--Jude liked to be in control. They were a lot alike in that sense. Not to mention, both of them enjoyed asserting their control as well which made her squirms all that more gratifying for him because he had the control at the moment. She leaned forward with her hand outstretched towards the radio dial, obviously meaning to change the station only to divert suddenly from that goal to reach down hurriedly into his bulging jacket pocket—clutching at the contents triumphantly as she scanned them hungrily. Tom couldn't help but laugh. She was smarter than she looked, and he conceded her the victory as she perused the tickets now in her hand

"No way!" Jude gasped, turning to look at Tommy in utter awe. For a moment, she seemed to forget her earlier disdain for him as a smile lit up her face. Apparently he had chosen well. "I love Shinedown--how did you know?"

"I didn't." Tommy answered simply while he mentally congratulated himself on being able to knock down Jude's facade, if only for a little while. "But don't forget, this is still a part of work." Tom pointed out.

Jude completely ignored his last comment, still giddy with the knowledge that she was going to get to see one of her favorite bands in concert. Her smile was contagious, and Tommy suddenly realized that he'd want to do this with her outside of work. Uh-oh. Thoughts like that were definitely not part of the plan. She was only seventeen, for God's sake, and soon she would be one of his artists. It was better to nip that idea in the bud.

At the stadium in Toronto (Jude)...

"Where do you want to sit?" Tommy asked--or tried to, at least. The noise was deafening as fans screamed following Shinedown's opening act.

"Sit?" I yelled back, knowing this wasn't good for my voice but not caring. "Are you nuts, Quincy? You don't sit at a concert!" I remarked as I shook my head at him. This was one of those times when you didn't have an assigned seat, no matter how much you paid for the tickets. It was first come, first serve, and because of my 'wardrobe malfunction' earlier in the evening, we arrived much later than most people. I was okay with that though--nothing a few well-placed elbows couldn't fix. I grabbed Tommy's hand, ignoring the electricity that traveled down my arm, as I dragged him down to the ground floor past the packed bodies and musty beer. I couldn't quell the laugh that erupted at Tommy's disgusted reaction to the crowd.

"Did wearing that white bandana soften you up, Tommy?" I teased, knowing he loathed talking about his past.

"Of course not, I--" He shouted at me even as he continued to stare at the crowd we were attempting to shove our way through. At this point, his face seemed to convey that his moral sensibility would be deeply offended if we went any closer. What a wimp.

I cut Tommy off before he could finish his sentence

"Just relax—cut loose—be daring!" I cried as he threw me a look. I just gripped his hand even tighter, knowing that if the bond was broken we'd be lost from each other for who knows how long. It was easier to get lost in a mosh pit than it was in the Bermuda Triangle--that much I knew from experience. After getting us as close as I could to the stage, Tommy tugged me back towards him as he leaned in close to me. For a moment, I honestly thought he was going to kiss me, but his lips bypassed my mouth as his breath made contact with my ear instead. Jesus! What was wrong with me? Talk about an imagination.

"I can't believe you like being in the pit. What was wrong with all those nice, spacious padded seats up on the balcony?" He inquired, although I knew he truly didn't mind the mosh pit as much as he pretended to. I think he was just trying to gain control of his position as my boss. My focus was riveted on his breath in my ear, though, and for a moment I couldn't even remember what he had asked. I was definitely in the process of digging my own grave where Tom Quincy was concerned. As a matter of fact, I think I was already looking at headstones.

Since Tommy was a bit taller than me, I had to go up on my tiptoes to reply, and in the process I was knocked into him by someone beside me, causing my body to slide along his as his hand supported the small of my back to keep me from stumbling. It was like a firecracker had suddenly gone off.

"Nothing...but then you'd miss out on all the physical contact available down here." I answered—realizing as I did how seductive that actually sounded. Too late to take it back now.