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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EXHAUSTED AND READY FOR THE WEEKEND, Regina slumped back in her chair and closed her eyes. She'd begun writing her speech as Gold had requested. Robin had been out all day in court. It was good because she was able to get some quiet and figure out some of what she was going to say.

So far, she had a lame introduction and boring mentions. That was the easy part, she mused. Stating the mission of the firm was simple but going into depth on how hard the attorney's worked for clients was much harder. It took strategy, honesty, and elaboration, she thought. All things she wasn't thrilled about embellishing on.

Why couldn't people just say what they meant and with as little words as possible? People talked too much, she decided. Especially when a speech was meant to introduce, mention important people, and thank them for coming. Nowhere, in her opinion, did it have to go on drowning about how she worked to convince a client to work with her.

Didn't he know her reputation? Didn't it matter to him that she was successful in winning? It was frustrating to know that her legal history had no bearing on Mueller. His cold feet were a mystery to her. She had to talk about how much lawyers worked.

True, lawyers worked behind the scene with paperwork, negotiations, and partnership. But it also took sacrifice and a bit of juggling. Not to mention knowing the judge and knowing what will slant his decision your way. It was so much more involved than she could ever explain to someone outside of the field.

Mueller was trying to protect his son, she understood that, but she knew what she was doing.

Pushing four, she thought the day had been way too long. After the disappointment of Mueller canceling, she just wanted the week over with. She was dying to sit around at home and start decorating for Christmas. Her tree was still in the box, but she wanted to dig it out and get started.

It was her tradition, to decorate her tree, her little apartment, drink cocoa while she watched Christmas movies. Maggie and David would come over at the end of her Decoration Day and they'd help put the last few ornaments on the tree. They'd sit down and watch Home Alone because slap comedy was something she enjoyed.

Deciding to stop brooding, she pushed to her feet and went to the common room. The coffee was cold, so she dumped it and put a fresh pot on. As it brewed, she tidied up the mess that was left. When she was done, she organized the creamers and sugars for something to do. She didn't know why she felt so restless.

When she had a fresh mug of coffee, she decided to pay Maggie a visit and hope her silent treatment was over. Knocking on the door, she watched her turn and look at her. "You still mad at me?"

Maggie sighed, "No, I'm not mad. Get in here."

Regina smiled, "Good because I'm sorry that I bailed."

"Forget about it," she said. "Just don't let it happen again."

Sitting in the chair across from her, Regina put her mug down. "I need some advice," she said. "I've been brooding all day and I've had enough. You're my sounding board."

"Okay."

"Stan is making me do the speech for the Mixer and I'm freaking out," she said.

"He told me. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I hadn't worked up to talking to you yet," she admitted.

"I'm really sorry, Mags. I didn't mean to blow you off. I was…" What was the right way to tell her she was having sex with Robin without embarrassing herself? She decided on a non-committal response, "occupied," she finished. Maggie knew how to read her, and she hoped she wasn't giving anything away.

"I forgive you," she said. "Have you started writing the speech?"

"Yea, but outside of introductions and the mission statement, I'm lost. Robin seems to think I'll be fine but, he doesn't know how scared I get."

"You can do it, if you put your mind to it. I'd suggest memorizing it, then you won't be able to improvise. Improvisation is what makes you nervous," she said honestly.

It was true, if she had to come up with something on the spot, she'd freeze. "Good idea," she mused. "I'll memorize it. I'll work on it this weekend," she said leaving out that she was meeting with Robin tonight. "I want to put up my tree this weekend."

"Decoration Day. I wondered when you'd get around to it. When?"

"I don't know, I'm thinking Sunday. You in?"

"I'll talk to David," she said. The phone on her desk rang, "I've gotta get this."

Regina stood, "Get it, I'll call you. Thanks, Mags." When she left, she felt so much better and a lot less guilty for bailing on her. Maggie always came through, she thought. She was always there for her and gave her ideas. This one hit the jackpot, she thought. Memorize. Why didn't she think of that?

Feeling silly, she wandered to the conference room, and checked the order list, added supplies needed, cleaned what was already cleaned. Feeling restless annoyed her, she didn't like sitting idly and her day had been nothing but idle.

Added to that, Gold was getting on her nerves. If he reminded her one more time that he was counting on her to reel in Mueller, she was going to scream.

Back in her office, she walked in to see Robin at his desk, "Hey." She sat and rested her head on her chin.

"Long day," he asked?

"I'm ready for the weekend, a long weekend where I don't have to write notes, prepare for court, or think about this office," she complained. "How was your day," she said turning to look at him.

"Productive and a pain in the ass. Norbert called me into his chambers, and I had to explain why my client didn't show, we worked it out. He's a hardass and frankly, he makes me nervous. After I made him laugh, I feel better. I'm ready for the weekend too," he said.

"Hmm," she glanced at the clock willing it to fast-forward forty minutes. A lot could happen in that time, she mused. A call, a case, Gold coming in to irritate her. As Robin moved around the room, she stared at the sticky notes on her desk. The to-do lists, the upcoming court dates. It never stops, she thought.

Oddly, she tried to remember the last time she'd taken a vacation and came up short. Christmas was coming, she thought. Who was she kidding? She never took vacations because she didn't have reason to. Lately there was this overwhelming need inside her to get away and to take some time. To do what? Irritated with herself, she jumped when Robin stood next to her.

"Come here," he took her hand and helped her to her feet. He sat in her chair and pulled her down onto his lap.

Glancing at the door, she hadn't realized he'd closed it. "I want to ask why you look so down, but first…" He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. She simply sank into it and wrapped around him. This was better, she thought. He always seemed to know what she needed. "Talk to me," he said.

"I need a vacation," she said. "I was just thinking it and then I realized how ridiculous that sounded."

"Why is it ridiculous?"

"Robin, I don't take time off. What would I do with myself?"

"What do you normally do for the holidays?"

Sad and tired, she looked down at his chest, "I put up my tree and decorate my apartment with Maggie and David, Henrietta usually has me over for dinner, and I used to get to see Roland. Without him, there's no reason to decorate and no reason to be invited to dinner."

"You're wrong. It's fun to decorate and I'm sure Granny loves having you for dinner," he said.

"I guess. I'm just feeling sorry for myself and I'm restless. I don't know why, I just feel like I need everything to stop. I'm tired," she admitted. It was hard to put into words what she was feeling and for someone who didn't know her that well, it was harder. He seemed intuitive and she loved hanging out with him, but it was there.

This feeling of apprehension, nervousness when she was with him, fear of getting too close. The way he looked at her sometimes made her want things. Things she promised herself never to expect. It wasn't worth putting herself through the emotional ringer that way. She kept telling herself to enjoy whatever time they had.

Because, in her mind, it wouldn't last forever. Robin was a sweet guy, charismatic, and he knew how to treat a woman. Inside and outside of the bedroom, she mused. Their date still played in her mind, and she tried not to want more. Because it would hurt when it ended. Regina knew there was never a certainty and she knew there were temporary desires.

"It's about time," he said. "I wondered if you ever felt tired. You work so damn hard, I think it's all you know how to do. But I've seen you relax, and it suits you. Take a break," he suggested. "You deserve it."

"Maybe," she said. "I started writing my speech. It's pathetic."

"Let me see."

"No," she said rested her head on his chest as he sat back. "It's lousy with introductions and mentions. The mission statement is boring, but Maggie suggested something that I think might help."

His fingers trailed up and down her back in a habitual way. She was becoming fond of it and expected it when they were together. Familiar. "Yea? What's that?"

"She said I should memorize it, I'm lousy with improvisation and if I'm reading it and lose my place, it'll ruin it. So, I'll memorize it," she decided.

"That's a good idea. Are we still on to pick up take out and work on it tonight?"

"Yea, I'll show you my apartment," she said.

With a laugh, he said, "I feel special entering the zone of no men."

"You're not men," she said.

"What am I?"

Swallowing, she wasn't sure how to answer that and was suddenly thankful that he couldn't see her face. "I haven't figured it out yet," she said.

SITTING ON HER LIVING ROOM FLOOR WITH food cartons on the coffee table, Robin ate while Regina wrote on a notepad.

It was different than he'd imagined, he mused. Her house was tidy, as he'd expected. A large window she kept draped in a thin white curtain took up most of her living room. A grey couch sat facing the window covered in those damn pillows. Six pillows on a couch. Who the hell needed that many?

A recliner stood on the other side of the room, a large area rug in a red pattern was a striking contrast to the pale grey. A coffee table in the center where he sat filled the remaining space. A small entertainment center took up the wall. Pictures of her from childhood, her father, groups shots of Maggie and David.

On a table in the corner held a photo of Regina and Roland on Santa's lap from the previous year, he guessed. The kid was cute, and he'd never seen Regina as happy as she looked in that photo. It was best not to comment on it. Her kitchen was roomy, filled with colorful doodads. It surprised him given the house he'd seen was bare.

It suited her too, he thought. This place suited her, but it was small, and he'd wondered why the hell she'd want to stay. It smelled like her too, he thought. Her smell stayed with him all day and he'd loved that he was with her now.

It made him think how nice it'd be to spend a day at work, come home and be with her, it would be the perfect life. It was scary to think of it, he was still getting used to his feelings. But the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. The life he could give her. The one she'd make his. The family they could have.

His parents would love her, he thought.

"Ugh…" she threw her pad down breaking him out of his thoughts. "This is hopeless." Pushing to her feet, she walked into the kitchen.

He gave her a few minutes on her won. He could hear her in there moving around, clattering something, a thud, and her frustrated sigh. Then, he stood and walked into the kitchen with his socked feet. Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her waist, and his head on her shoulder. "You're having a day of it."

"Yes, I am. I can't seem to get out of this mood," she said. With a cup of tea in hand, she took a sip. He could smell the apples and cinnamon. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not being a better company," she said.

She wasn't in a mood, he thought. She was floundering and she was trying to work something out in her head. He'd known it for days, but he knew she needed to come to terms with it. With him. Deciding a distraction would be best, he pressed his lips to her cheek. "I think," he said kissing her lips, "You need to relax and forget for a little while."

"That's not gonna work," she said.

He turned her and framed her face with his hands, "Yea, it will." He lowered his head and she sighed into the kiss. He took it slow and easy, wrapped her close. She seemed to need it slow and he didn't think anyone had ever given her slow or easy. He eased out of one kiss and slid easily into another.

As he kissed her, he felt her body slowly start to loosen up. He slowly eased out of a kiss, brushed his lips to her cheek, her nose, each eyelid, and rested on her forehead. He hugged her close, "Let me help you."

"Okay," she sighed. Taking his hand, she led him down the hallway. He followed her into her bedroom and took a look around. King size bed, he noted. Plush with a duvet and too many pillows to count. A bookshelf on the far shelf, a couple of chairs, and a dresser topped with bottles. He always wondered what was in those little bottles women used. Right now, he focused on her.

"Unzip me," she said turning her back to him and lifting her hair.

She was still in the dress she wore to work, he obliged her by unzipping the dress in no hurry. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, lower between her shoulder blades, and over her apple tattoo. He lowered the dress to the floor.

Regina reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, threw it aside, and stood in front of him. He watched her eyes, saw the impatience and annoyance. He simply kept his eyes on hers and picked up her dress. He draped it over the back of a chair, did the same with her bra. "Slow down," he said softly.

Crossing her arms over herself, she sighed, "Sorry."

Stepping to her, he drew her close, "Don't apologize to me. Let me help you relax. I want to go slow," he said lowering his head. He kissed her deeply and held her. His heart was beating fast, his head felt light. This feeling always overtook him each time he was with her. Each time he held her, kissed her, he was enamored.

When he released her, he walked her toward the bed, slid his shirt off, and sat. He pulled her down to sit next to him. "Turn around," he said. He shifted her back to rest against his chest. He rested his hands on her shoulders and began to slowly caress. To press, mold, and massage. He kissed the curve of her shoulder, "That's my girl."

Her body relaxed slowly as he continued to move his hands from her shoulders down her back. At her hips, he lingered, pressed as she sighed and relaxed further. Her breathing was deeper, she seemed to lay back and enjoy. "Mmm," she hummed. "That feels amazing."

He maneuvered his hands to her belly, caressed and stroked, moved up to her breasts, and molded softly. He covered his mouth over her shoulder as his fingers slid over her nipples. He felt her tremble. "Enjoy it." He continued to massage, to caress, and stroke. For long minutes, he simply massaged all her muscles while she relaxed.

He'd never felt this want to give this to a woman. To make sure she was relaxed and given his time. He couldn't remember spending this much time touching a woman's skin. Only tempting her once or twice by brushing her breasts and lingering. Then, he backed off and massaged her. She was soft and silky, curvy, and firm.

She turned her head so he could kiss her properly. Her tongue met his and his blood went to flame. His fingers tangled in her hair, he told himself to go slow. He knew how hot it could get with her. What he didn't know was how slow and gentle he could be. It was new and a little strange to him.

He brought her to him, wrapped around her, and covered his body with hers. He drowned her in the most languid kisses. His fingers trailed softly down her arms, up to her shoulders, down her sides, along her hips. He simply touched and savored her. When her hands worked to rid him of his slacks, he allowed it. He lifted his hips and dispelled himself of them. Flush to her body, he wrapped her legs around him. With torturous slowness, he rocked into her, ground himself against her.

He took the kiss a hair deeper and felt control slipping. When she tried to hurry, he slowed. When her kisses became desperate, he backed off. When her hands began to reach for his boxers, he kept them in place. When his mouth closed over the pulse on her neck, she sighed, "Robin."

"Hmm?"

"You're driving me crazy," she said as he kissed her again. "I need…"

"I know," he said into another slow patient kiss. "Relax," he instructed with another kiss. He eased out of one kiss and into another as he reassured her. "I'm taking my time," he said.

She managed to get one hand free and slid under his boxers, her hand wrapped around him. He grunted when she brushed her thumb across the tip. "Teasing isn't so fun, is it?"

He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, her eyes were aroused, dazed. Taking her hand, he linked their fingers and pressed it to the bed. Grinning, he took her arm and shoved it under her to pin it. With his free hand, he slid the fabric from her hips and tossed it.

Reaching down, he trailed his fingers up and down her thigh, all the while making eye contact. When his fingers traveled up, she gasped. "How's that for teasing?"

Her jaw jumped when his fingers trailed along the front of her, brushing her dark curls, and back down between the softness of her thighs. "Robin."

"I love how you say my name when you're turned on," he said. He touched his lips to hers, "Like you're desperate for me to touch you." He continued to trail his fingers up and down her inner thighs, felt her trembles.

Her breath shuddered out when he was a hair from her center, brushed his fingers over her lips, and back down again. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" Her voice was breathy and unsteady.

"Desperate," he said as he lowered into another kiss. A hot, steamy kiss that had his body charged.

"Yes," she admitted. "Please," she almost begged.

He kissed her again long and slow, "I'll give you anything you want," he said.

Releasing her hands, he lowered his boxers and reached for the wallet in his pants. He took out a condom, tore it open, and rolled it on. "Come here," she lifted her and kissed her. He took one of her legs and draped it over his lap. His hands gripped her hips and guided her until she took him into her.

Pulling her torso down flush against him, he wrapped around her and sunk into another kiss. "Take what you want," he told her.

She used the strength of her legs to rock into him. He helped guide her slowly at first always returning to kiss her lips. He kept his hands on her hips as they moved in a slow rhythm. It was enough for him, he thought. Slow, deep, and intimate, he mused.

Then, she sat up with her hands on his chest, and he was the one to tremble. "I need it faster," she said.

"I told you," he said as she rocked into him, "I'll give you anything you want." Her hips moved faster, rocking into him over and over until he couldn't breathe.