Chapter Six

Emily waited until things had calmed down a bit before pulling Elizabeth aside. The morning rush had passed and Jason was apparently fixing himself breakfast in the kitchen, so she figured that she had at least a few minutes of alone time with her best friend before she had to run home and spend a couple hours staring at a computer screen, trying to write her humor column.

"So?" she hissed as Elizabeth skittered across the floor in her sneakers, almost losing her balance but managing to gracefully slide down into the chair next to the one Emily had hung her coat on. The redhead wasted no words as Elizabeth glanced nervously toward the kitchen, making sure that Jason wasn't around. "What happened? How'd it go?"

"Worked like a charm," Elizabeth drawled as she offered her a Cheshire cat grin. "He fell for it hook, line and sinker."

Emily rubbed her hands together, looking more like a wickedly gleeful child than the young married woman she was. "Excellent. But I need details. What did you say?"

"The same thing we decided," Elizabeth replied. "That he was right and that it would have been a mistake. I also threw in a little song and dance about how I wasn't looking for anything serious right now."

"Ooh," Emily whistled, nodding her head appreciatively at her best friend. "Nice touch, my friend. Good one – that had to hurt."

"You should have seen his face at times, Em," Elizabeth crowed, doing her best to keep her volume and satisfaction in check. "He looked like I had punched him in the stomach or something."

"See? See?" Emily could barely contain her excitement. "There he goes again – proving to you, babe, that he wants you. Oh, this is going to be mah-velous, darling. I can feel it in my old bones."

Elizabeth snickered. "Yeah, well, I hope you're right. But I figure the rest of it will be smooth sailing compared to this. I mean, I've already jumped over the biggest hurdle by talking to him about it. And that is something that I don't intend to revisit, believe you me."

"Aw," Emily clucked, patting her friend's arm. "You're so cute when you're an emotionally stunted prude." Elizabeth rolled her eyes and the redhead continued seriously. "But anyway, what are you thinking for the next phase?"

"Well, he knew from the beginning that I'm really, like…loud. And that I have the rare ability to talk to a fence post," Elizabeth remarked. "I told him I wanted to be friends and he agreed, so I figure I won't waste any time and just dive right in. He won't think anything's up because he knows what a blabbermouth I can be."

"So you'll go right to the talking and the bonding," Emily mused, nodding her head approvingly. "Good. I like it. The sooner we get on to that, the sooner we can get on to the seduction."

Elizabeth blushed fiercely and dipped her head. "Emily, please – I wish you wouldn't call it a seduction."

"Well, that's what it is," Emily pointed out with a sly smile. "You're going to seduce him, you little vixen."

"No, I'm not," Elizabeth replied witheringly. "I'm just going to make him pay for getting me all excited and then walking away. Bastard."

"That's what I like to hear," Emily grinned. "So, you think you'll be able to pull it off?"

Elizabeth nodded confidently. "Oh, yeah. No sweat. I'm going to get under his skin like no one ever has, and then I'm going to pull his strings like he was Pinocchio."

"That's my girl," Emily beamed, rising from her chair and giving her friend a quick hug before reaching for her coat. "Well, I've gotta run home and pretend to do some work before my editor calls me up and reams my ass, but call me, okay? We'll go over strategy."

"Em," Elizabeth chuckled, rolling her deep blue eyes. "I don't need you to tell me how to…"

"Seduce Jason?" Emily supplied helpfully. "I know. But you know that I can't keep my mouth shut on the subject, so you might as well let me."

"Oh, I meant to ask you," Elizabeth interrupted as Emily reached for her purse. "Did you talk to Johnny yet? Did he agree to help?"

"Not yet," Emily replied slowly, pulling her dark auburn hair out of her coat collar. "But don't worry," she added at Elizabeth's panic-stricken expression. "I know what to do to get him to help. Or, actually, what not to do."

Elizabeth couldn't contain her grin. "Poor man."

"Nah," Emily disagreed playfully. "He's used to it and doesn't put up a fight. That's why I'm so spoiled."

"Ah, we hear it straight from the horse's mouth," Elizabeth crowed. "Issue a proclamation!"

"Ha, ha," Emily snipped. "I have to go, but remember to call me, okay, sweets? And good luck."

"Thanks, Em," Elizabeth grinned as her friend pulled on her gloves before pushing the door open. The bells hanging from the threshold jingled merrily and a severe gust of cold wind blew into the diner. "Jeepers creepers, go already – I'm turning into an icicle over here."

"Bye, hon," Emily called before disappearing into the frigid February morning. As soon as she left, another thought occurred to Elizabeth and the brunette nearly toppled over two chairs in her haste to get to the door. She opened it and, ignoring the cold wind that blasted her face, called out to Emily's retreating form.

"Em!"

Her best friend turned around, drawing her shoulders forward to escape the stinging wind. "What?"

Bravely, Elizabeth stepped out of the diner, the bells jingling as the door slammed behind her, and ran up a few paces closer to the redhead. "He said he liked me."

Emily's green eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yup," Elizabeth nodded proudly. "Jason Morgan said he likes me."

Later that day…

Things had been going well since Emily left. Elizabeth had turned the charm up to the maximum and she and Jason had been getting along famously. Penny and April were astonished to hear hearty laughter coming from the usually silent kitchen, and when they peeked in and saw the petite brunette sitting on the counter next to Jason and sharing some hot chocolate with him, they both thought they'd faint dead away.

"See?" Elizabeth asked eagerly, clinking her black mug with Jason's. "Isn't this better than coffee?"

Jason eyed the dark liquid skeptically. "I don't know," he drawled, still unsure. "It's good, but…"

"But?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "How could there be a but? It's hot chocolate, Jason! God's gift to man! Well, specifically, menstruating women, but you get what I mean. It's rich and hot and chocolatey and you get to put marshmallows in it. If this isn't heaven, I don't know what is."

"You've got a little bit of heaven on your mouth," Jason remarked, gesturing to the same spot on his own face. Elizabeth picked up her napkin and pretended to dumbly wipe away at the wrong area.

"Did I get it?" she asked innocently as Jason did his best to contain a smile at her prominent milk-and-marshmallow mustache.

"Nope."

She tried again with the same results. "Did I get it now?"

Jason sighed and gently grasped her hand at the wrist, guiding it to the proper spot above her full lips. "There," he answered softly, tracing the outline of her lips with his piercing lips. "You got it."

"Thanks," she beamed back at him. "But I still didn't get my answer – is hot chocolate better than coffee, Morgan?"

"If I say yes, will you shut up?" Jason teased, laughing and squirming away when she reached out to smack him.

"What happened to being friends, Jason?" she teased right back. "You're certainly not being very friendly. And here I am totally making an effort – even sharing my precious hot chocolate with you…"

"OK, OK," he cut in with just the right amount of playful guilt in his voice. "How about if I tell you that I only drink two things not counting water – beer and coffee – and I think I might have to add hot chocolate to the list? Does that do anything for you?"

Elizabeth's triumphant grin seemed to light up the small kitchen. "That does a lot for me," she beamed. "Any man that I'm going to hang around with has got to like hot chocolate – there's just no other way around it."

"Picky, picky," Jason snipped, gulping down the last of the hot beverage and taking her cup with his to the sink. "Your standards are pretty lofty, Webber."

"Oh, I don't know," she drawled back, kicking her pink Puma's to the beat of Papa Loves Mambo from the jukebox outside. "All I ask for is a guy that likes hot chocolate, isn't a metrosexual, is good with his hands-"

Jason nearly choked on his own saliva, but one quick look at her told her that she hadn't meant the last part as thinly-veiled sexual innuendo.

"- and has a sense of humor."

"Yeah, he'd need it with you around," Jason muttered under his breath as he rinsed the mugs.

"What was that, Morgan?" Elizabeth demanded from her perch on the counter, a good-naturedly angry look on her face.

Jason just grinned in reply, and that was all the answer Elizabeth needed. She hopped off the counter and stalked toward him, her sneakers squeaking slightly on the waxed floor. Reaching the sink, she grabbed the soapy mug from his hands and pushed him out of the way with a good jab of her hips.

"You're mean. That's what you are."

"And you're pretty funny."

"You'll change your tune soon enough," she threatened, waving a small fist covered in suds at him. "They all do."

"All?" he teased. "How many legions of men before me have tangoed with Elizabeth Webber?"

He meant it as a joke – a rare joke was still a joke, damn it – but from the way she stopped rinsing the mug and looked up at him with a baffled look on her face told her she didn't receive it as such. Jason was about to clarify it and change the subject when she continued, her voice more serious now then before.

"Well, not many, actually. I dated a guy named Sean in high school my senior year, and this guy named Barry during my late freshman and sophomore year of college. Other than that, no one."

Her answer threw him for a loop. But before he could say anything more on the subject, Elizabeth had already placed the mugs in the appropriate cabinet and was walking toward the double doors. "Hey, hang tight, will you? I have to go talk to Penny about something."

With that, she danced gaily out into the diner leaving Jason alone in the kitchen with his thoughts. The older man leaned against the sink, his arms crossed as he thought about their recent conversation.

So this was what it was like to be Elizabeth Webber's friend. Oddly enough, Jason thought as he glanced at the bag of marshmallows she had left out, he liked it already.

Elizabeth was back in the kitchen after talking to Penny and April for a little while, and that was when the lunch bunch came in. All the waitresses and Jason were on their toes as usual, trying to keep up with the frantic pace of the orders. Besides serving food, the waitresses were also responsible for child care, and Jason watched in amazement as Elizabeth put an end to a food fight between two siblings and soothed a crying baby for a frazzled mother who was trying to deal with her other three children.

That woman could do it all, he mused as he busied himself in the kitchen. All he had to do was stir the damn chili – she was out there doing the real work. He knew that Elizabeth didn't plan on being a waitress for her whole life, but he had to give her credit when it was due: she was really good at it. She never tripped or spilled anything, she never messed up orders, and she was never rude to the customers for no reason. While she didn't hesitate to dish it out for the jerks that came in and demanded her undivided attention for things like "Miss, I wanted crushed ice, not cubed", Elizabeth did do her best to keep her temper in check when kids made a huge mess while their inattentive parents chattered away maniacally on cell phones that were so tiny it was a miracle they were even visible to the human eye.

She was a big hit with the little kids that scored free brownies and lollipops, and the senior citizens that found in her a captive audience for their Great Depression stories. She seemed to know most of the patrons personally, and always made it a point to inquire about jobs, kids, or even grandkids. Elizabeth was always in such a good mood and such a delight to be with, and Jason found himself oddly happy that for once, he got to share in a part of that.

The lunch bunch left slowly and it was then that Penny and April's shifts ended. The two girls escaped upstairs to the confines of their bedrooms to study for an upcoming exam, leaving Jason and Elizabeth alone downstairs.

"Come on, let's rustle up some grub," Elizabeth cried, clapping her hands and practically making a beeline for the kitchen. "I'm starving."

Jason followed her wordlessly and as she scrounged around for two clean cups, he scooped out two bowls of chili and carried them over to the counter where they had shared their hot chocolate earlier.

"Jason?" Elizabeth's head poked up from behind the refrigerator door. "What do you want to drink?"

"Is there a beer in there?"

She nodded, trying to mask her happiness at the sight of not one but two bowls of steaming chili at his side. He was even waiting for her to get there before starting. "Yeah." She grabbed his drink and poured herself a tall glass of milk and skipped over to where he was standing.

Jason took the beverages from her and waited until she had hopped onto the counter before handing her the milk and pulling himself up. They were quite a sight – him with his chili and beer, her with her chili and milk. Her pink Pumas dangled a good foot off the floor; his motorcycle boots were a few inches shy of the ground. And so they sat and ate their lunch, just the two of them in the empty diner. They sat at times in comfortable silence and at other times, Elizabeth felt like filling the silence with her endless chatter. Jason listened patiently as he chewed, wondering how come it had been so easy to slip so seamlessly into a "friendship" with Elizabeth Webber when he had been pawing under her skirt not forty-eight hours earlier.

But maybe he had to chalk that up to part of Elizabeth Webber's feminine mystique; he wanted to ravage her one minute, and he wanted to hear the end of her Story of the Hour the next. She was a strange kid, but he liked that about her.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Once Elizabeth's shift was over, she slipped upstairs to get one of her books and then came back down for more hot chocolate. Jason worked from open to closed every weekday because he figured that if he was stuck working at Kelly's, he'd work as much as he could so that he could get out sooner. Elizabeth apparently felt bad for him and abandoned her comfortable little spot in the nook where she was able to lie down on the pillow-covered bench to keep him company in the kitchen.

Eventually, the diner cleared as it usually did in that after-lunch-but-before dinner time stretch and Elizabeth returned to her comfy little makeshift lounge chair in the nook by the jukebox. Jason noticed a worn copy of Pygmalion lying half-opened on one of the pillows and asked her about it, sparking a long discussion on the intricacies and nuances of George Bernard Shaw. Elizabeth was greatly fascinated by Jason's take on the themes and symbolism in the classic novel.

Presently the dinner group came in and Elizabeth watched Jason retreat back into the kitchen. She skimmed through several pages of her book while the customers ate, unable to drag herself upstairs despite all the progress she had made that day with her stubborn co-worker. The diner closed at eight-thirty and Elizabeth helped Jason and the other girls close down. When almost everything was done, Jason told the other girls to go home; it was dark out and there was a snow storm in the forecast for the night and he wanted them to be able to get safely home before it hit. Elizabeth waved goodbye and then bent to pick up a chair and flip it over on top of the table so that the night crew could sweep and mop.

But as her hands closed around the back of the chair, she felt a warmth behind her and before she knew what was happening, Jason was leaning next to her, taking the chair from her and easily setting it on top of the table himself. She smiled unabashedly up at him for his assistance, and Elizabeth could have sworn that he had blushed. He finished the chairs and she made sure the register and doors were locked before making her way toward the staircase.

"Nite, Jason," she called as he slipped into his leather jacket and pulled on his riding gloves. No matter how low the temperatures dropped, that man just didn't get cold.

"See you tomorrow, Elizabeth," came a deep voice as Jason nodded once at her before slipping out of the diner into the dark and blustery night.

A sly smile stole across Elizabeth's full lips as she tapped the spine of Pygmalion with her index finger. "Count on it, Morgan."