OSCAR GOLDMAN'S HOUSE - 12:15am

Jaime stepped out of the shower and slipped into the big, soft bathrobe Oscar had given her to wear while her clothes were in the washer. She breathed in deeply and smiled; the robe was clean, but she could smell him - sense him - in its folds. Her very soul was tingling. Stop it, she tried to tell herself. He's your boss and a good 20 years older. Her heart was winning over logic, though, as she found herself immune to her own good sense. She ran a comb through her hair and poked her head out into the living room.

Oscar's eyes took in the sight of the woman standing before him and he tried to push away the thought that everything she'd been wearing before was now in the wash. Under that robe...Like a daughter, he reminded himself.

"Looks good on you, Babe." he told her. Their eyes locked again, taking them both by surprise and stealing their common sense away along with their breath.

"Have you heard from Steve lately?" he asked, trying to distract their minds (and bodies) from what was beginning to feel inevitable.

"Steve who?" She moved closer but didn't touch him, afraid to be the first one to cross that line. "He just couldn't handle me, I guess," she said flirtatiously.

Handling her...now there's a concept I could definitely deal with, Oscar thought. "Is there anyone who can?" he teased, moving to close the small gap between them and wrapping his arms gently around her waist.

Jaime reached up and slowly traced his ear, his cheek and finally his lips with one finger. "I'm sure that someday, there'll be a man who finds a way."

Oscar leaned down to kiss her but was interrupted by a loud 'ding!' from the utility room. Jaime ducked out of his arms and gave him one quick kiss. "I'll just put my stuff in the dryer and be right back."

When she returned, Oscar was waiting for her on the big, over-stuffed sofa, two champagne glasses in one hand and the other arm stretched out toward the empty space next to him. Jaime took one of the glasses and sank down into the cushions, curling up with her legs tucked beneath her. She nestled into his out-stretched arm and he wrapped it comfortably around her.

He raised his glass. "To yet another successful assignment," he toasted.

"As if there was any doubt," Jaime laughed, clinking his glass. "After all, I had a good teacher."

They set their glasses down and began wading into each other's eyes. Oscar broke the silence. "I've been fighting this for so long," he told her in a voice filled with emotion.

"So have I," she whispered. "But right now, I can't remember why."

Oscar put his other arm around her, completely encircling her. "I love you, Jaime. I've loved you for so long."

"I love you, too - more than I ever thought I could love anyone."

Their first "real" kiss was long and slow, made even sweeter by how long they'd had to wait for it. Neither of them initiated it; it happened just as though fate had guided them both. Their kisses built gradually in passion and intensity, and they drew as close together as two bodies could get while their tongues met and began to dance together.

Jaime began unbuttoning his shirt and caressing his broad shoulders and his chest. Oscar bent his head to kiss the back of her neck. He trailed soft, tender kisses around the side of her neck, to her throat and finally, ever so slowly, to the spot where the bathrobe came together in the front. He returned to her lips and kissed her hard until he felt her beginning to squirm happily in his arms.

Oscar stood up, still holding her, and carried her into his bedroom. As he laid her down on the king-sized bed, the robe fell open. Jaime didn't protest and Oscar definitely didn't mind.

"My God, you're beautiful," he told her softly. Within seconds, his clothes were gone, too and he stretched out beside her and began touching her in ways she'd never known were possible.

When it was over, they both felt too blissfully languid to move. "You always were a good teacher," Jaime murmured.

Oscar smiled. "In that case, how about another lesson?"

END