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This is #1 in the Kisses Series of short stories, vignettes and ficlets based on the 1958-61 TV series "Peter Gunn". Each entry features two prompts: a kiss prompt and a word prompt. The time frame of these stories ranges from pre-series to post-series and they are written in random order. Prompts are found at the end of the story. Time frame for this entry: Pre-Season 1.

• Umbrella For Two

Peter Gunn squinted and leaned forward in the driver's seat, almost missing the entrance to the small parking lot of Edie Hart's apartment building. Rain that had begun as a soft Saturday morning shower had increased as the day wore on and was currently streaming down in sheets. Water was overflowing the curbs in both directions, mini-rivers cascading with determined intensity toward the nearest storm drains. The weatherman had missed today's forecast by a mile but at this time of the year he could be forgiven. May was the second wettest month in this part of the state, providing sustenance for all those flowers promised by the previous month's showers. This being only May 3rd, and considering the amount of rain that had already fallen today, the month was bound to be a record-setter.

He'd had a brief thought of pulling in somewhere along Verbena Street where the tall red oaks would give them a modicum of extra protection along the sidewalk, but the spaces allotted by the city for parking were all taken. That was par for the course on a weekend afternoon. Once in the lot he disdained the two short rows of spaces – one identified for use by residents only, the other for residents or guests – and pulled up to the front of the building. He peered at the rain pounding against the windshield. The wipers had been of little use during the ten minute drive from the Downtown Diner where they'd stopped for a late lunch after strolling through the antique marketplace located in the original town site. Maybe if they waited a few minutes the downpour would ease. The PI said as much to the pretty blonde who occupied the passenger seat and was pleased when she nodded agreeably. He turned off the motor of the big '58 DeSoto and reached for the pack of Luckies in his breast pocket.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to come in for a few minutes?" Edie coaxed, raising her voice slightly to be heard above the rain pounding against the car. "I can make coffee."

Pete pushed in the dashboard lighter, belatedly offering a cigarette though he already knew she wouldn't accept it. Edie wasn't much of a smoker, one of the little things he'd discovered about her in the few short weeks they'd been seeing each other. She had finished one of his as they sat at the bar talking one early morning at Mother's and that had been the only time he'd seen her with a cigarette. She had more willpower than he did, he decided. Maybe one day it would rub off on him.

"Can't. I'm supposed to meet up with Lieutenant Jacoby in an hour." He pushed open the side window vent as he exhaled, letting in damp air to help disperse the smoke. His lips tilted in an easy-going smile as he leaned back in his seat and caught her gaze. "If I don't show up on time he'll give me the silent treatment."

Edie matched his smile and it struck him, for at least the thousandth time since he'd met her, that she was the prettiest woman he'd ever known. Damp curlicues dotted her hair where the rain had caught it during their sprint from the diner to the car. Her face glowed with a light tan beneath a mere touch of makeup, her lipstick a pale red that he found enticing. The yellow sundress she wore set off her figure and the matching sweater added a touch of propriety as it hugged her shoulders. Even after all the walking they'd done, through jostling sidewalk crowds and narrow shop aisles, she still looked as fresh as when he'd picked her up this morning.

The downpour ceased almost as quickly as it began.

"Well! I guess that's my cue," the blonde chuckled warmly, eyebrows raised archly.

Edie's laugh was music to the PI's ears, bringing a quick grin to his face. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and grabbed the umbrella from the back floorboard.

"Don't move," he admonished.

Pete got out of the car and pulled the back of the driver's seat forward, quickly gathering Edie's two bags and another smaller bag that contained a bracelet that she'd allowed him to buy for her. It was of yellow gold, probably from the 1930s, music-inspired charms dangling so closely together a person would be hard-pressed to add another. Drum, tuba, saxophone, piano, violin, banjo, a tiny gramophone, tambourine, bell, trumpet, even an accordion, all interspersed with musical notes of different shapes and sizes. He let the door fall shut with a thud and managed to get the umbrella open by the time he rounded to the passenger side, big drops once again beginning to fall.

"I enjoyed the day very much, Pete," Edie murmured, claiming her bags from him and groping in her sweater pocket for her apartment key. She offered the PI one of those smiles she was so good at, demure yet flirtatious at the same time, and her eyes said all sorts of things to him.

He walked closely beside her as they crossed the sidewalk to the door of the building, a steady stream of moisture dripping from the edges of the umbrella and landing at their feet as they turned to face each other.

"I'm sorry we didn't have more time. Maybe we can do something tomorrow afternoon."

"That would be nice."

Pete thought quickly, his nimble mind jumping from one possibility to another. They could drive over to River Run Park, have a lunch of chili dogs from one of the vendors and then wander the trails. Sunday was also the last day of the May Day festival at the local fair grounds so that was a possibility. Maybe afterwards they could go back to his place and he could make her a nice dinner. He knew she liked pasta and chicken. And Italian food. He'd come up with something.

"If you like I can drop back by around five and drive you to Mother's," he offered diffidently. "We can talk about it then."

He didn't want to appear presumptuous or pushy. Edie Hart was a grown woman who had no need to rely on a man to drive her to work or make sure she got home okay. But he found himself wanting to do those things and much more for her and strangely enough it scared him. Which was an odd thing for Peter Gunn. He knew a lot of women. He'd had girlfriends. He'd gone out on the casual dates with others. But with this woman it was different. The PI had known that from the first moment he saw her.

"That would be nice," Edie repeated.

Her eyes grazed his face curiously, amusedly. As if she was reading his mind. Something else that should probably scare him. If she had any idea of some of what he was thinking during the times they were together she might run in the other direction.

Pete leaned in and kissed her. He couldn't help himself, it was as though some intangible power drew him to her. It wasn't their first kiss but it was a different kind of kiss. A tiny shiver sped up his spine and his free arm went around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest as he sheltered them with the umbrella. Her lips were soft against his, parting with the small amount of pressure he exerted, and their tongues playfully met. They would all be different, the kisses, and he found himself looking forward to them. Each and every one, for as long as they were together. For the remainder of their lives.

He released her suddenly and took half a step back, his mind swimming at where his thoughts were taking him. Inexplicably he found himself wondering what her lipstick might taste like if such things had flavors. Then he watched bemusedly as Edie pulled the handkerchief from the pocket of his suit jacket and reached to wipe his lips. There was that same amusement in her gaze once again and her voice held a tone of mock seriousness when she spoke.

"We probably should remove the evidence before you see your policeman friend."

Edie had yet to meet this Lieutenant Jacoby, Pete's friend whom he sometimes worked with in some convoluted manner, but she had a feeling the cop wouldn't appreciate the PI showing up sporting lipstick. She refolded the handkerchief so the smudge was on the inside and returned it to it's rightful place. Hurriedly stepping from beneath the safety of the umbrella, she slipped through the apartment house door, her soft smile the last thing Pete saw as it fell shut behind her.

The tall, dark-haired man closed his umbrella and walked the few steps to the car. Hand on the door handle, he lifted his face to the rain, not minding that it was dampening his suit or that puddling water was seeping into his shoes. His own lips curved into a smile. Life was good.

[Kiss Prompt: under an umbrella] [Word Prompt: evidence]