ATTENTION: THE AUTHOR IS POSTING THE LAST CHAPTER ON MAY 5. TO THANK ALL THOSE WHO HAVE READ HER STORY, SHE IS ALLOWING THE ENTIRE STORY TO BE PUBLISHED UNTIL MAY 22.

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REGINA WORKED FOR THE REMAINDER of the day and most of the next morning with temper hot within her. Who the hell was he to tell her how she felt? It infuriated her to know that he could read her that easily. It angered her more that she wanted him to. Where the hell had that come from?

To appease herself and her mind, she'd written a letter to Katherine. A short letter apologizing for confusing Roland, for upsetting her, and letting her know that if it was what she wanted, she would stay away. Feeling it would be easier coming from David, she asked Maggie to give it to him.

Maggie had been apprehensive about doing so, but she agreed to give it to David. When he came to ask her why he was her messenger, she explained that Katherine didn't want her around anymore. He apologized and expressed his condolences knowing that she loved Roland. So, he agreed to give it to her. It eased her conscience a bit.

Now, she was working through her mad by jotting down notes, in court, she was ruthless, didn't give a step, and walked out of the courtroom feeling better. Her client was happy with the ruling, her opponents congratulated her, and Gold simply gave her another case to add to the growing stack.

The office was the last place she wanted to be right now, but it was childish to avoid it. Walking in, she was greeted with Robin with Emma and another woman sitting across from him. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt," she took a step back in retreat.

"Regina, right on time," he said smiling. That smug smile, those dimples, his forest green eyes normally attracted her. Today, she wanted nothing more than to shove her fist into his face and see that smug smile disappear. "Shana Holton, this is my colleague Regina Mills."

Regina reached out and shook her hand, "Pleasure to meet you." She glanced at Robin who shot her a wink. Frowning, she turned to the woman.

"Right back to you," she said. "We were just going over some paperwork."

"Paperwork?" She took a few steps to see Emma filling out an application for assistance. "Oh, I see."

Shana explained, "Emma and Henry have been approved for cash assistance and some food help. With this application, we may be able to help her get into a program where they can lower her rent or find a more affordable apartment."

"I've heard of the program," Regina said. "I was going to suggest that to you when we met."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know we had a meeting this afternoon, but I had some time and I have an emergency this evening."

Robin interrupted, "We were just finalizing a few things before we meet with the bank tomorrow."

"Good idea," she decided. "I'm glad you're doing this, Emma. It'll be good for you and it'll look good for the judge."

Emma shrugged, "Thanks."

When the applications were filled out, signed, and copied for the office files, Shana and Emma left. Robin took the time to write up case notes and create a new folder for Emma. He put them all into a thicker folder and placed it inside his desk drawer.

"Now that's over with, you wanna grab lunch?" He turned to smile at her. Staring at him, she wondered what the look in his eye held. It unnerved her but she ignored it.

"I brought my lunch and I figured since we're picking up dinner before working on the centerpieces, I'd limit my carb intake."

"Right," he said. "Good idea. I have fish in the fridge. I'll share, if you want."

Frowning, she asked, "What's gotten into you?"

"Who me? Nothing," he said as he stood. Turning, she almost made it to her desk when she heard the lock on the door snap in place. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Jitters filled her stomach, her body trembled when she felt him come up behind her. "Relax," he said. "Feeling any better?"

She only shrugged. She felt his hands rest on her shoulders and gently massage until she relaxed a bit. Taking her blazer down her arms, she shivered involuntarily. His hands rested on her again, warm, firm, moving slowly easing her muscles. "You're so tense," he said softly.

Trying to relax, it seemed to make things worse and she tightened instead. Breathing shallowly, she tried to step forward. He placed a hand on her torso and brought her back against him. "Enjoy it," he said.

"Robin—" His hands kneaded harder and harder down her neck, her back, her hips, moving up slowly along her arms. Her head tipped back and rested on his shoulder as his hands molded, pressed, and glided. "Mmm," she hummed. "Do you do this often?"

"I used to," he admitted. "To my dad," he explained before she could get the wrong idea. "My dad had these major back pains and I'd always help iron them out for him. My mom isn't a big fan, she prefers the tub," he laughed in her ear causing goosebumps to spread down her arms.

"You locked the door to give me a massage?" She stretched into his hands, leaned into him, and let herself relax. He rested against his desk and brought her to sit atop his lap. His hands never stopped moving. "Is this to make up for making me mad?"

"I locked the door," he said low in her ear, "Because I wanted to give you some time to relax before I tell you some not so good news," he said. His voice rumbled against her, she felt it blazing on her skin.

Her back went rigid, she snapped her head up, "What's the bad news?"

"I didn't say bad," he said. "I said not so good."

"Thanks for the clarification," she said sarcastically.

Laughing in her ear, he wrapped his arms around her when she tried to stand. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Try and pull away," he said. "I feel the moment you start to relax and enjoy yourself. Then, the next, you're trying to run. Why is that?"

Before she could answer, she felt his hot breath before his lips closed over her neck. "Oh," she sighed. As he explored her skin, heat engulfed her body from the inside out, she tried to get up. "I'm not used to this," she sighed.

"I know," he said in between open-mouthed kisses. "You smell good," he inhaled. His fingers slid her dress strap over her shoulder and pressed his lips in its place.

Each time she thought she was in control and ready to pull herself back, Robin changed the angle of his assault. His mouth was warm and inviting. Moving to places she hadn't been touched in too long. "Robin."

"Yea?" he said closing his mouth over her neck and scraping his teeth along sending shivers to her core. "I can't get you out of my head," he said continuing his assault of her senses. "I can't stop wanting this."

She lost time, simply stopped thinking as her body tingled, her belly fluttered, and his hands moved. As his mouth moved along her skin, she tried to rationalize it. She wanted this as much as he did. He was skilled, she knew. It had been a long time since a man touched her. It would be good, she mused. It would be a disaster, she feared. Fear crept into her and she struggled to keep her senses.

"Robin," she said louder hoping he could hear her over the fog that took over his brain.

"Hmm?" he raised his head and covered her mouth with his. It was a jolt, she could only think. A hot jolt that sent her blood to boil. Her body was a livewire of nerves dancing under the skin.

What has gotten into him, she thought? Instead of pushing him away or her pulling back, she found herself holding on. Her hands fisted on his shirt, wound around him, drifted up into his hair as she lost her breath. When she was devoured and tested thoroughly by him, she tried to pull back for air.

When he released her mouth, she took in a deep breath and shuddered when his mouth hovered over her neck where her pulse beat rapidly. Her heart thudded as his hands molded to her hips, down to grip her ass, and back up to trail his fingers over her breasts. Every time he stroked, she trembled, felt herself falling into delirium. Her mind was sharp, "Robin, stop."

His hands were getting bolder, her body too aware. When she felt him tugging on the zipper of her skirt, she shoved him, hard. "Stop," she said more firmly.

He stopped immediately and stared into her eyes not quite clear, "I'm sorry. I got carried away, I only wanted a taste. You do things to me," he said.

Still wound around him, she pressed her hands to his chest, "It's not the place or the time and I'm not sure that this is right."

Glancing around, he grinned, "It would've been fun."

Regina couldn't help but laugh, "I don't doubt it, but we've got work to do."

He leaned in and kissed her once, twice, and lingered on the third. "Maybe tonight," he winked still a little out of breath.

"Tonight?"

"Your place, centerpiece painting," he explained.

"Right," she said. It had escaped her along with any solid thought. His skin, his hands, his scent, his body lingered inside her. Potent and deadly, she mused. It would be hard to keep him out of her head, she thought. If she let him in it, she knew it's a fight to get him out.

Despite all that, she couldn't help but let a glimmer of hope grow as she sat at her desk and got to work. Robin followed suit after leaving for twenty minutes and returning looking more relaxed and focused. Tuning out the impure thoughts from her mind, she brought up the next email and got back into the rhythm of her job.

ROBIN TRIED TO REIGN HIMSELF in before picking up dinner. Knowing that he was headed to her place was dangerous. Dangerous for him, for her, for them, for their work relationship.

Every time he tries to distance himself and think of her purely as his colleague, he sees another side of her. The women he knew before taking this job was nothing like the woman that she really is.

He thought about it, knew that people saw her as a ruthless and strong lawyer. A woman who won and who fought for her clients. Dominated the courtroom and took nothing from those in opposition to her. A woman people feared would land on the other side of her wrath.

If he admitted it to himself, he'd never want to be on the side of her wrath. Underneath the woman he was uncovering, she was tough. Tougher than he gave her credit for and tougher than he wanted to see.

But, as time passed and he spent most of his days with her, a different side emerged. The lost and lonely side, the compassionate and kind side, the quick temper, the soft and gentle side that she didn't let others see. Spending most of his time with her, it was hard not to see it. He'd tried not to see it and when he did, it blindsided him. Complexity. That is how he'd describe her. Complex and full of qualities.

Why the hell was she single? He often asked himself that when he thought of the whole of her. Gorgeous, smart, hardworking, good job, the whole damn package was appealing. So, why did she keep herself closed off? He let himself wonder as he entered Lorenzo's Italian Bistro.

He'd ordered pasta, salad, bread, and because he thought they both needed it, a bottle of wine. He waited for his order when he spotted an old friend, Dale. His friend raised his head with a grin, "How the hell are you?"

Robin took the handshake into a hug and laughed, "I'm good. Damn, it's been a while. You still over at Schuster's?"

"Nah, man. Schuster's was a great start, but I wanted to get my feet wet in criminal law. I'm working with Victoria Belfrey."

Robin's brow rose, "No shit?"

Dale turned and pointed a finger, "My fiancé," he grinned.

Robin watched the woman he knew all too well turn and smile at him uncharacteristically and wave. "I'll be damned," he said waving back. "When did that happen?"

Dale shrugged, "I started working there a little over two years ago. It took me six months to get the nerve to ask her out. We clicked."

"Congratulations, man." Robin hugged his friend. "That's awesome."

"Thanks, you'll come to the wedding. I'll send you an invite, it's next June."

"I'll be there," he said. The host called for his name and he turned to grab his order. "Listen, it was great seeing you. I've got a meeting, call me this weekend. We'll catch a game or something."

Dale nodded, "Will do."

Damn, Robin thought. Dale Webster and Victoria Belfrey. Shaking his head with a grin, he couldn't think of two people more suited. They were both tough as nails, smart, sharp, and driven. He laughed to himself to see them in an argument. He wondered who came out on top more often.

He wound through the streets of the west part of town, followed his GPS directions until he came up in front of Regina's address. The house was a two-story colonial in white with a dark roof. In the dark he couldn't tell if it was brown, blue, or grey. The sidewalk led to four steps leading up to the veranda. The lights outside were on, he noted.

The front of the house had a railed in porch that spread on either side of the front door behind columns. Heavy flower beds lined the porch railing, he could see. Though, he couldn't make out what was planted. Large double-hung windows on the front and another two single hung windows off to the right side over the two-car garage.

The top floor held three gabled dormer windows in true colonial style. To the left, he could just make out the bricks from the chimney. To the right, he could see two more gabled dormer windows atop the roof of the garage. Nice, he thought.

Taking the food out of the car, he made his way up the steps and knocked on the door. It was a double red door. Stylish, he guessed. It would stand out from the road, he mused.

Regina opened the door and he stared at her. "What?"

"You're wearing Jeans," he pointed out.

Fidgeting on her bare feet, she crossed her arms, "So? Come on in," she suggested. When she turned to walk him inside, he appreciated the view. Yea, jeans were a look. Her look, he thought.

Inside there was a foyer, he thought. A banister leading up to the second floor curved up and around. Down the hall, there was a table with balled legs against the wall. A lamp and some frilly flower basket stood atop it. The walls were white with crown molding along the ceilings. The floor was hardwood polished.

The kitchen was huge, he noted. Double small chandeliers hovered over an island that held two stools, a built-in microwave. It was dark wood topped with Pegasus granite countertops that matched the base cabinets. The base cabinets made a big u-shape. Other than a fancy coffee maker, there was little on it.

A few files, no dirty dishes, like his own. He whistled, "Nice digs."

"Thanks, I grew up here."

He put all the food and wine on the island aside a large bouquet of what he guessed her lilies. Two small bows with fruit and packets of almonds were next to the flowers. "Who cleans this place," he wondered out loud. Catching himself, he saw the smile on her face. "Sorry, but if I lived alone in a place this big, I'd hire out."

"I do," she said pacing plates on the island. I'm rarely here but I don't want the house to deteriorate. So, I have someone come in three times a week. They clean, dust, water the plants, and I have a greenhouse out back with a garden I grow."

His brow rose, "You grow your own food?"

Shrugging, she said, "Just a little. Like I said, I'm never here."

He turned his head to look into a small sitting area. It was too small to qualify for a living room, he mused. The room was open, he could see over the counter into the room. If there was a wall there, it was smart to knock it down.

Two large bay windows lined the side of a chimney, large heavy curtains in reds and browns covered most of the windows. A three seated couch with lots of pillows atop it sat in front of the fireplace. A bookshelf covering one wall held classics, some pictures, and a row of glass jars in different colors. A table on the other side of the window held plants, a large white Bible in the center, and more plants underneath on a lower level.

The center of the room was covered in a white plushy carpet over the same hardwood flooring throughout the house. A small door stood open in the corner hardly visible. "Where does that lead?"

Regina was busy plating dinner and only said, "Hmm?"

"The door in the corner over there," he said.

Looking up, she said, "Oh, garage, greenhouse, and deck."

"It must've been awesome to grow up in a place this huge," he said smiling.

Sitting, she poured wine in glasses and handed him one, "It was when I was younger. My mother used to look outside through the window over the sink while my sister and I played. My father built us a treehouse and we'd spend all day up there. It's still there," she laughed. "Full of dust, I'm sure."

"I had a fort my dad built when I was seven," he began. "It was small, but we'd build on each summer. Then, when I was about twelve, I'd have friends over." With a smirk, he said, "I lost my virginity in that fort."

A surprising laugh escaped her, "How funny, I lost mine in that treehouse. I was seventeen."

He turned to admire her reddened cheeks and an easy smile. "I was fifteen and terrified," he admitted.

"Fifteen? I hated boys at that age. They were mean and unruly. I rarely had a good thing to say about them," she said.

They ate and enjoyed an easy conversation. It was the first time being near her that he didn't feel pressure or guilt for being attracted to her. They laughed and shared embarrassing childish memories. When the food was gone, and their wine glasses filled, she said, "I set up the centerpieces in the den."

"The den?"

"Yea, come on, I'll show you," he watched her take her glass and walk down the hallway into another hall he'd missed in the foyer. When he entered the room, he smiled. It looked a lot like his father's office.

A large bricked fireplace with a shelf holding pictures, funny signs, and a statue of Jefferson was centered. Black grates to the fireplace were closed. A long cream-colored leather sofa sat draped in dark blankets and pillows. He was starting to think she loved her pillows. They were everywhere. A table sat in the center over a blue checkered rug, atop it all the supplies for the centerpieces.

She'd taken two chairs from somewhere out of the room to put around it. A recliner in the same cream color was shoved off to the side near another door leading outside.

"Ready?"

He turned as she set her glass on the table and smiled at him. She was so damn pretty, he thought. Setting his glass next to hers, he nodded, "In a minute," and took her face in his hands. He watched her eyes as he lowered his head and covered his mouth with hers. Soft, teasing, testing. When he released her, he said, "I wanted to get that out of the way, or I'd never stop thinking about it."

She cleared her throat and sat, he'd give her more time to think about it, he thought. He sat and they readied themselves to spend a night painting.