Her headache had stayed almost the entire day, morphing at times from a dull ache to a stabbing pain and back again. All she had really wanted since arriving that morning was to go home, take a hot shower, and sleep.
Which is why when clock in her office struck 6pm, she was more than ready to hurry home.
The winter hours caused sunset to fall just after 5 o'clock, resulting in the city being doused in darkness by the time she even thinks about leaving. Despite this, she assured her security team that she could manage on her own and that an escort to her home every night would be nothing more than a waste of resources.
After buttoning her coat and wrapping her scarf around her neck she goes to turn off the lamp she has perched at the corner of her desk when she catches sight of the empty coffee cup from this morning, still sitting to the side on the coaster she had sat it on hours before.
She knows that perhaps she was a bit to harsh. He was right after all, she couldn't avoid talking about what happened forever. But talking about it would mean expressing her feelings on the situation, and she hadn't quite navigates those yet.
As her luck would have it, he was still sitting at his desk, the bullpen empty except for him.
She inwardly sighs. Of course. Of course he was still here.
"Closed the case." He says, not bothering to look up at her as she makes her way down the steps.
"And?" She inquires, stopping at his desk despite her better judgement.
He glances up, "Ex-wife did it. Got mad when she realized he was dating someone else and snapped."
She nods, "And the FBI? Step on your toes any today?"
He shakes his head, "Not the guy they were looking for. Like I said, evidence they presented was slim."
A soft smile graces her lips, "Glad to hear that, Jethro."
The moment his name escapes her, something in his eyes changes. She sees it happen, and it worries her that for once, she can't place what he's thinking.
"Back on a first name basis, Jen?"
She sighs, "You're never easy, are you?"
He offers her a grin, "Never."
With that, he stands and grabs the coat he has draped on the back of his chair, closing the case file he had been reading as he does.
"It's dark," he says, "and since you're to stubborn to let a security detail escort you, I'm walking you to your car."
She opens her mouth to argue, to tell him that she's perfectly capable of making it to her car unharmed, and that given the circumstances they were under, being alone together wasn't ideal.
But instead, she holds her tongue. When it came to him, picking her battles was worth it, and this was one she didn't want to take part in.
She fiddles with the hem of her coat during the elevator ride, an attempt to distract herself from looking at him. He had an effect on her, a power to make her loose sight of what was considered the proper decorum for a boss and her employee.
But she knew better than to pretend that's all they were.
"Nice coat," he comments as the doors slide open, "reminds of the one-"
"Yeah." She cuts him off. She knows the one, no need to open that can of worms right now.
A chill runs through her when his hand grazes the small of her back as he leads her through the parking lot. She mentally kicks herself when it happens. This right here is why she went against her better judgement the night before. He had an effect on her just by a simple touch, and she both loved and hated it.
"You're mad."
The bluntness of the statement catches her off guard.
"I'm not mad," she tells him, because she truly isn't, "I think it was a poor decision on both of our parts, but I could never be mad about it."
When they reach her car, she turns to fully look at him, back pressed against the drivers side door. He leans into her space, arm outstretched with his hand pressed against the glass of the window. Effectively popping the bubble of propriety she had been trying to maintain.
"Was it really the wrong choice? Or is that what you're just telling yourself?" It's a challenge and she knows it.
"I had said there was no off the job my first day here." She retorts.
The corner of his mouth flicks up into a mischievous smirk, "Funny, cause that's not how you made it sound last night."
She can feel the blush creeping up on her, "I never said-" she pauses, debating her next choice of words, "I never said I didn't enjoy it."
"Then what's the problem?"
"I'm your boss," she says, "And you're my employee. People will talk. It's bound to end poorly for the both of us, and I can't risk doing that to you again."
It's the first time she's acknowledged the hurt she caused him when she left, she realizes. It still causes a twinge of pain in her chest.
She wasn't prepared for his free hand to settle on her hip, and she lets out a contented sigh before she can stop herself.
Damn that man.
"Don't know until you try." He mutters, leaning in a bit closer to her.
She knows that everything about this position is the farthest thing from appropriate for a boss and her employee.
"We're a recipe for disaster Jethro." She whispers.
He dips his head towards her, dangerously close now and she prays that no one else is in the parking lot to see what she thinks is about to happen.
She wants to scream in frustration when he pulls back with a coy smile.
"Night, Jen."
With that he leaves her, making his way through the dark of the parking lot.
It takes her a full minute or so to recover before she has the sense to get into her car. The wind is still blowing and it's beyond cold outside. Not that she had noticed in the last few minutes.
When she's safely inside the warmth of her vehicle, she lets out a groan and leans her head back against the seat. If only he knew.
It wasn't that she didn't love him. It's because she did.
And that scared her.