A/N - Hey All!

See? You can trust me. As promised, all polished. Thanks for all the reviews and new followers and for the readers who have added this to their favorites. I'll answer all the reviews, as always, but I wanted to get this posted first. I'll be heading back to Martha's Heart, Blank Page, and Courtship and then I'll be back here again. Thanks so much for reading!

Please enjoy!

~GeekMom

Assets

Chapter 3

Limited Partnership

"Beckett." She wasn't surprised to hear her captain's bid. What surprised her when she turned to look at him was the glint in his eye, a silent chuckle, if she read him right.

"Sir?" She did her best to sound unaffected, but she was. Her heart still hammered every time she closed her eyes and saw him on the ground, the moment she recognized him, the blood on his collar. It had been too long since the last time she felt optimistic about a potential relationship and she didn't want to lose the opportunity in any way.

"A word," he one-word ordered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beckett inhaled, ignored the tittering hens and furtive glances in and around the bullpen, and walked over to join her captain by his door.

"Who is Doctor Parrish with?" He nodded towards the break room.

"He's, uh Richard Castle, sir." Her captain raised his eyebrows, a look on his face she couldn't decipher, but he didn't interject, so she continued, "A victim and witness to our suspect's flight in Central Park this morning. He refused medical treatment on the scene and I thought it best to bring him in, get his statement, and get him attention."

"Well, he has gotten the attention," he observed while indicating his reports craning and gawking toward the small room.

"Yes sir."

"I trust that Dr. Parrish will conduct the rest of her examination professionally."

"Yes sir: I'll see to it." She took a step away and then turned. "To be fair, sir, both Dr. Parrish and I know the victim," she confessed. "He's our accountant."

"I see," he mused as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That wouldn't have anything to do with you bringing him here, would it?" Montgomery raised an eyebrow.

"I only wanted what was best for the victim and most expedient for us, sir."

"Okay, Beckett. Just wrap it up."

"Yes sir," she acknowledged and scurried to see what damage control was needed in the break room.

"Damn," Lanie whispered and followed it with a low whistle. "Are you sure this was done with a neck tie?"

"Um…yes? I probably would remember if the guy had put something else around my neck."

She leaned back and pursed her lips. "Well, Mr. Castle, do you like wearing ties?"

"Not really, no," he confessed. He could at one time in his life stay in his pajamas all day and still work if he wanted. He grinned at the kindled memory and then sighed, "But it's a part of the expectation in my profession." He shook his head. "Most people won't trust me with their money if I look like…well like an unemployed author."

Lanie frowned at his odd example. "Well," she took out a pad and wrote as she continued speaking, "I am going to recommend that you see your own doctor, take it easy and let these bruises heal, that you not wear neckties for the next couple of weeks, and that you take our girl out there on a date."

"Okay…yay, yay…what?" He blinked at the smirking doctor, perplexed.

"Even when I was giving you the full on treatment out there, you still only had eyes for her. Either I'm losing my touch or you've got it bad for Kate Beckett."

"I'm…I'm sorry?"

"Don't be, Mr. Castle…I know I haven't lost any moves, but I do know a lost cause when I see it."

"Rick," he corrected and they smiled at each other. He was beginning to like the doctor.

She leaned in close to his ear, under the pretense of checking his neck. "Rick," she whispered, "I recommended you to Kate for more than your talent with numbers." She tilted her head conspiratorially. "Understand? Don't let me down."

He grinned. "I'll do my best," he promised just as Kate entered.

"Your best what?"

"Um…to take care of himself," Lanie explained, not missing a beat, but in a long-suffering tone. To Kate she reported, "I gave him some Tylenol and a topical analgesic for the fabric burns and bruises." She closed up her bag. "Take care, Mr. Castle. I'll see you next year." And with a final flick of her wrist, she left.

"I'll look forward to it, Dr. Parrish," he answered pleasantly. "Thanks for saving me," he gulped to Kate when the doctor was out of earshot.

"From whom: Lanie, or the perp?" she asked. He nodded toward the door. She sat next to him on the couch. "No need: she was only reminding me that I shouldn't let you get away." Knocking into his shoulder, she added, "I haven't told her that we already have a date. Sorry."

"Classic wing man," he whispered with unabashed admiration in his voice, while gazing out of the door she exited.

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a moment. "Seriously, Castle: are you okay?"

"Yeah," he returned. "Well enough for tomorrow night." He turned his palm over on the seat between them.

She looked at it for a moment and Rick thought that maybe he had misread, but then she suddenly grinned and placed her hand in his and squeezed it as she silently agreed. "Well, we better get your statement or Captain Montgomery will have my…"

"Beckett?"

His eyes met hers, both sets embarrassed like they had been caught necking behind the bleachers at a high school dance. Kate rolled her eyes and dropped his hand. "Speak of the devil."

Castle sat forward. "Did you say his name is Montgomery?"

"Yes."

"Roy Montgomery?" He stood, straightened his clothes, and then stretched and bobbed, looking through blinds on the windows like a short man at the very back of tall parade onlookers.

"Yes…" She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"If he's the same Roy Montgomery, I think I've played poker with him." He grabbed his jacket and tie, and walked out of the room. Beckett waited long enough to catch her breath, which turned out to be just long enough to hear him familiarly exclaim, "Roy? Hey, it's Rick: Rick Castle, from Bob Weldon's poker game a couple of months back."

She got back to the bullpen just as Montgomery pulled him into his office by the handshake and shut the door.

Her future date knew her boss? Her future date knew her boss. Huh.

Sitting down she twirled her pencil, almost poking herself in the eye with the well-gnawed eraser, glanced at the closed door, rearranged her mother's parade of elephant figurines on her desk by a quarter of an inch, and then back again…twice, glanced at the closed door, squared the stack of post-it note pads and organized them by rainbow order: Roy G…'Roy,' and glanced at the closed door, behind which her boss and potential boyfriend were reconnecting.

Kate Beckett preferred to have her life compartmentalized: grouped and separate just like her dinner plate as a child. The green beans could not mix with the mashed potatoes lest the world end in fiery apoplectic chaos. Her work life didn't bleed into her personal life and vice versa. Rick Castle's mashed potatoes were practically suffocating her green beans.

She never dated the men she met on the job, even though she'd been attracted to a few. Her work friends were, excepting Lanie, Espo, and Ryan, more like acquaintances. She didn't feel the need to get chummy, trade recipes and Christmas gifts with people who could be gone…transferred or worse, at any time. Kate did not need any more heartache. She kept her distance and kept everyone at a safe distance as well. Wishing her co-workers a happy birthday was about as sociable as she could muster.

She conveniently overlooked breaking all of those self-imposed rules for the off the books investigation she ran into her mother's murder, on her own time: personal time, from her guest room. In her mind, that wasn't crossing lines: it was just the way that it had to be.

"Hey," he whispered right behind her ear. Kate startled and practically head butted him. She twisted her neck to look at him.

"Sorry," he said, but his expression wasn't contrite. She raised a doubtful eyebrow. "No, I am. I had no idea that this was Roy's precinct. That's so cool." He sat in the chair next to her desk, but did not stop moving, excitement crackled through his being.

Roy: he called her boss Roy.

"Anyway, I have to get to work."

She glanced at his neck, surprising herself by going against her typical M.O. of keeping her distance, and taking in a breath, began to protest but he raised his hand.

"I can't reschedule any more appointments this close to tax day." She opened her mouth again, but he continued.

"I'm fine and actually: is it weird that I'm grateful to my buddy Dennis that I can't wear ties for a while? Probably," he answered himself and Kate wondered if she really needed to be there. "But I'll take it…not the assault, just…well, you know." He stood and like a magician with a hankie, dramatically stuffed the silk garment into his pocket, smirking. He looked like a kid who'd been given an extra recess.

"Uh…no wait: what about your…"

"Statement?" he finished, rather smugly. "Roy, uh…Captain Montgomery took it," he chirped. He leaned over her, placing one hand on her desk between her and her keyboard and the other on the back of her chair, encompassing her. "We're still on for tomorrow, right?" he spoke low, while surreptitiously surveying the room, his voice not much more than a husk: a warm breath of a feeling. "I've got a surprise. This will be so cool." He straightened leaving an imprint of his cologne in the air like the dying remnants of a firework, the embers falling silently in the space he recently occupied. Kate closed her eyes, dizzy.

"Until tomorrow, Detective?" he sang as he headed for the open elevator. He smiled warmly just before the doors slid closed, revealing the hallmark of 'NYPD' and '12th Precinct' etched onto the familiar doors.

"Yeah, um…yes." She returned and waved numbly. What the hell had just happened?

At a few minutes before seven the next evening, Castle walked into a comfortable, homey restaurant: more of a diner. His sense of smell immediately aroused by the blissful aromas of grilling meat and whatever happened to be in the fryer, which roused his taste buds and the two senses dueled for his attention and affection. He had his choice of 1950s era Formica and aluminum topped tables paired with primary colored vinyl chairs, booths clad in the same motif or the counter that curved around the grill and delectable dessert case. He noted the liberal use of whipped cream on the various sweets, his favorite topping, by far. There was an assortment of still life, scenic, and portraits on the walls all reminiscent of Norman Rockwell's style and composition, along with optimistic aphorisms on rustic cedar shingling or small chalkboards. On his way to claim a booth in the back, he walked by a table of six engaged in a lively and good-natured conversation, laughter peppering the exchange. The four uniformed cops caught his attention immediately and he smiled amiably. Not only did he respect the men and women who put on any uniform in service, but also he'd had his run-ins with law enforcement in the past. It would never hurt to be friendly. As his gaze wandered over their company, he recognized the two in plains clothes as the same two detectives from the park and he smiled ardently.

"Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said, stopping short and turning to them. "But, I just want to thank you."

The Hispanic cop raised his eyebrow while he stared into Rick's soul and the others glanced at each other.

"For what," the younger detective asked.

"Oh, um…" he swallowed as he shoved his hands further into his pockets. "I was at the park…uh, today."

The other detective chuckled, "Oh yeah, it's Rambo." His amusement was chorused by the men seated. The female officer diffidently dropped her lashes and concentrated on her plate of onion rings. Rick made a mental note to order the fried delicacy. How good a restaurant's onion rings was one of his gauges on the restaurant's quality, a touchstone of sorts.

Smiling, he raised his hands. "I just…I am truly very grateful," he said ducking his head. "I'll leave you to your meal…"

"Hey, um…" the younger detective called, snapping his fingers. "It's Castle? Right?" Castle nodded. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fight the guy."

"Yeah man, that was dangerous," the other detective agreed.

"Oh…well, just…I was in a position to help you, so I did," Castle said unassumingly, his gaze dropped to their tabletop. He lifted his eyes, smiled warmly again, and opened his mouth to bid them a good evening, but stopped: the tension fell on the gathering like a wet blanket, the woolen kind: stiff, itchy and too heavy to move. He wondered what it was that he said wrong or how he might have given the wrong impression. He was pretty good at sticking his foot in it: either his mouth or a pile of shit: practiced in both varieties to almost an art form.

The partners shared a glance. Three of the uniformed cops, who all comported themselves comfortably, as if they'd been on the job for a while, stared at the speckled geographic designs on the aluminum-trimmed table, or simply were avoiding his searching eyes. The fourth, a young woman whom, except for the gun on her belt, Castle would have sworn was still in high school with Alexis, watched him in something he would only term as awe, even as unbelievable as that sounded to his own mind.

"Man…" the Hispanic began, meeting his partner's eyes again, pressed his lips to his teeth, and lifting his chin, assessing Castle, he nodded. "That's all right. Thanks." He stood and held out his hand, a half of a smirk on his face, but his eyes sparkled in amusement.

Relieved and a little suspicious that he'd just been played, Rick clasped his hand. "You're welcome: um, it was the least I could do."

His partner stood and shook his hand, as well. "Ryan," he said, indicating himself, "Esposito, Muniz, Hammett, Valerio, L.T., and Hastings," introducing everyone at the table, as well, each in turn smiled, nodded or waved, or held up a coffee mug in salute.

The uncertain rime evaporated and Castle felt a warmth from their inclusive and appreciative acknowledgments. Castle waved, shyly, beaming when he recognized L.T., the officer who helped him at the park, who gave him a thumbs up and a knowing nod.

"So, Rambo, what brings you downtown? Isn't your office on the west side?"

"Yeah…yes," he began, rubbing his hands on his suit jacket. "I'm meeting…"

The door opened and the unspoken subject of his sentence walked in the door. His whole countenance brightened visibly upon seeing her, like a flame given oxygen. Likewise, her eyes shone finding his first, but the light then dimmed when she took in to whom he was talking. Her smile never got an opportunity to warm and bloom and, like a tender rose pelted by an unexpected early frost, withered.

"Detective Beckett," came the teasing singsong from Esposito.

Kate inhaled and occupied all of her height. "Guys," she greeted crisply, all business. "Hastings, Muniz: nice work on the Boyer homicide." The two officers mumbled their thanks to her for the taciturn praise. Castle wondered if she had any true work friends.

He couldn't really talk: he ran a one-man shop and so the only work friends he had were his assistant, Melissa, whom he paid, so that stretched the term and feeling of friendship a bit. Other than her, he had a handful of consultants he could call on if he needed clarification on tax law. He'd often wondered how many friends he'd have if he were a successful author. Long ago, he'd been to the parties; he'd seen how popular, popular authors could be, although, admittedly, he stopped receiving those invitations over a decade ago.

He looked between the table of smirking cops and the stiffening Beckett and tilted his head. It didn't take a genius to decipher the situation. "Detective Beckett? Thanks for meeting me here." He stuck his hand out, all business-like. She stared at him. Castle wet his lips and glancing at their audience before directing his gaze back toward her, he continued, "I was downtown doing an errand for my mother." He rolled his eyes melodramatically and put upon. "I appreciate your moving our meeting here. Did you bring the supporting paperwork and receipts I asked for?" She nodded, still mute, and held out her old worn leather haversack to him awkwardly. Castle smiled. "Excellent." He turned his attention to the gaping jaws and skeptical faces at the table. "Gentlemen? Miss?" he nodded to the gawkers. "It was a pleasure meeting you, but I need to keep this appointment with the detective. It's my busy time, you know." He turned, but grinned at Kate and reaching in his jacket's breast pocket, he dropped a couple of business cards on the table. "If anyone of you ever need my services: I'd be honored and it'd be my pleasure to offer a discount." With that, he confidently led the way through the tables to the booth in the back that he had scoped when he entered.

They remained silent until they placed their orders. Kate lifted her eyes to his as she slid her hands, palms down, under her thighs.

"You know, they're still watching," she whispered.

Castle smiled. "I know." He played with the straw in his water glass. "Why don't you pull out your file? They were almost finished with their meals when I came in."

Kate nodded and turned her attention to her satchel. She kept her concentration and focus in the bowels of the bag. It reminded Rick of Mary Poppins and her carpetbag. Suddenly, she snapped her head up to face him. "Was that a bribe?"

"What?"

"Offering a discount."

"No," he answered carefully, "Just…appreciation."

Kate lifted her eyebrow, teasing. "Then I suppose that I'll receive the same discount."

He inhaled, pursed his lips, and shook his head, as he answered, "No, I'm sorry Detective. I took you as a client before the events of yesterday." She frowned. "Besides, how could I discount nothing? I'm pretty good at math…"

Their waitress brought their meals. She'd recommended the cheeseburger and fries basket with a strawberry shake: her meal. He agreed except ordered a chocolate shake and the onion rings. He couldn't remember the last time a first - sort of - date didn't include some form of alcohol.

"What did you mean by nothing?" she probed as she dipped her fry into the shake and brought it to her mouth.

He grimaced. "I don't charge friends and family for my services."

"I'm not either of those and don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

Castle stared at her for a moment. "I'll have to take your word for it. Maybe you're not right now, but Kate?" He reached for her hand resting on a rubber-banded wad of receipts. She scanned the restaurant. "They left a few moments ago." He waited until she turned back to him. "Kate, I really want to be your friend and maybe…maybe more."

"More?"

He smiled and his whole face lit from within. She thought his eyes couldn't get any bluer.

"Yeah." He waved his hand between them. "I don't do this…" She idly dragged a fry through the puddle of ketchup on her plate. "I mean mix, uh…business with…" She lifted the fry to her lips and he really wanted to be that fry. He licked his lips, almost tasting the crystals of salt that clung to her bottom lip. 'Pleasure,' he finished to himself. "You're just…you have to know already: you're extraordinary." She raised her eyes to his coyly from under her lashes and smiled.

"Extraordinary, huh. Okay, Castle." She bit her lip. "Friends."

They finished their meal and he stuffed her papers and receipts into his bag after poking fun at her disorganization. He won the argument over who would pay the bill, because he could claim it as a business expense. She decided not to argue further with the Tax King. He helped her into her coat and escorted her from the restaurant.

Walking her home, he tentatively took her hand.

"God, your hands are warm," she giggled as she walked closer to him.

"And yours are like ice." Encompassing her hands, he lifted them to his lips and expelled a warm moist breath between his fingers, warming her hand. Kate watched his eyes watch her as he blew another breath into his palms. He wore the mantel of a boy who had gotten in trouble before and knew he was getting away with something. She felt herself stiffen and she quickly averted her eyes to the pavement. He shook his head, but kept his eyes on her. "You need better gloves."

She looked up sideways at him from under the curtain of brown, grinned and knocked into him. He gifted her with an equally mischievous grin and nudged her back. They walked on for a few more minutes, he pointed out different people and what they might be doing or where they were going before she stopped them short.

"Hey Castle: what were you going to tell me, you know from yesterday with Montgomery."

He smiled the 'I'm so excited smile.' The same one he had displayed at the precinct the day before, but punctuated with caution and reticence. He took in their location. "Do you want to get a coffee?" he asked, nodding toward coffee shop.

The question caught her off guard. "Castle?" she questioned.

"I'd just like to sit while we talk," he said quietly, while holding the door of the little shop open for her.

She found a table for two away from the front door and a few minutes later he brought their coffees and sat down opposite her.

She held the fragrant brew up to her mouth, and hadn't realized how cold her nose was until she felt the warmth of the escaping steam on her face. He watched her in awed fascination. She made drinking coffee an art form; sensual or forbidden like he shouldn't be witnessing her reunion with the rich liquid deity: he felt truly voyeuristic.

She took an experimental sip and then beamed. "You remembered."

"It was only a couple of days ago," he dismissed.

"No, thank you. Really."

"Cheeseburgers and fries and now a cup of coffee: either you're a cheap date or easy to please."

She raised a challenging eyebrow, grinned cheekily, and denied, "I'm neither. You pay attention and notice things. You don't care about the type of place, just that I wanted to go there. I haven't been with anyone that cared enough about what I wanted lately and I'm grateful."

He reached across the small linen covered table and placed his hand on hers. "What do you want, Kate?"

She just stared at him. He was sincere, as sincere and true as the sapphire of his eyes. She flipped her hand under his, melding her palm to his and inhaled as she blinked. She looked up from the napkin and caught him smirking and she narrowed her eyes.

"I want you to tell me what happened with Captain Montgomery," she said as she lifted her head defiantly.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Too soon?" She nodded. "Okay: cheeseburgers and fries it is. We'll save the wine and cheese for later."

She nodded again and added, "Definitely cheesy cheese, Castle." Her eyes sparkled.

"You wound me, Detective."

Truth be told, Kate could have jumped in with him, right there, right then, but she wanted to do this right. There was something appealing about the accountant, safe. Sure, he had looks. It made her question why he was alone. Was he a jerk? Not so far. An idiot? Not that she could discern. She'd half been waiting to see what monsters the guy was hiding.

"Castle: Montgomery."

"Right," he blurted as he uneasily cast his gaze to his spoon sitting idly and behaving itself on his plate. He moved his thumb and the spoon flipped to the tabletop, spilling the drops of lingering macchiato and staining the linen cloth. "Damn it," he muttered as he blotted the spill.

"Castle." Her hand covered his and he slowly lifted his eyes to hers. She wore an amused expression. "Stop stalling."

"Right," he acknowledged as he placed the napkin on the table. Inhaling, as if bracing himself, he began. Kate closed her eyes and listened for the telltale reveal of the monster, the thing that would make it impossible to continue seeing him.

"I'm…" he swallowed. "I used to be a writer." The words spewed out of his mouth.

Relieved, Kate opened her eyes and tilted her head. "Really?" Her gaze intense, she wore a thrilled smile and all of her attention was undeniably bid to him.

"Yeah," he confirmed, feeling safer by the minute.

"That is so cool," she crooned, her excitement and relief palpable in the warmth of the small shop. "Like novels? How many? What kind?"

Rick blinked. He felt the warmth of her attention unraveling the knot in his chest. He never shared this part of his life with anyone. This was his great failure: the decimation of his lifelong dreams: the bleak and wasted battleground of his soul. He'd turned his back on his dreams, stuffed them inside a file drawer along with the rejections and dismissals: long kept out of sight and mind in order to do right by his daughter, for her happiness and security. Kate's interest was essential. She had ignited a long dead spark and it was important that she understand the risk he was about to take. "Yes: novels: three, well actually, one that's been published, one fiction novel…a thriller."

Her eyes lit. "Wow. What are the names? Can I read them? Are they under your name? Why did you stop?"

He held his hands up in front of him and smiled, indulgently. "You were probably too young to read it when they came out," he swallowed and directed his gaze to the abandoned spoon. "But I can get you a copy, if you'd like. I have copies of the unpublished two, as well."

She grabbed his hand again. "Really?" His eyes snapped back up to hers. "I would, I really would like that, Castle…thanks…and, just for the record: you're not that much older than I am."

He tilted his head and under his gaze, she confessed, "Okay, I may have looked up your DMV record."

He shook his finger at her. "Why Detective Beckett," he intoned, smirk in place. "Wouldn't that be considered an abuse of power?"

She giggled at his mock outrage and shook her head, happy that his reticence and whatever reason he had for it had dissipated, like the fog on a chilly morning. She couldn't remember the last time she giggled with a date. She liked the effervescent, weightless feeling of letting go. She began rubbing tiny circles and patterns on his hand. Humming contentedly, she asked, "So what does this have to do with your poker buddy Montgomery?"

He stopped and inhaled. That he never talked about his failures was becoming a compromised personal rule, when it came to talking to her anyway. "Well, uh…the other night…after you left, I um…" Still his voice was quiet when he spoke.

"What?" Kate leaned forward, attentive, as if her life depended on his next words. Her curiosity thrilled and terrified him at once.

"I really needed to write, um, creatively, again." He flattened his lips against his teeth and engaged in some lip mistreatment of his own. "God, Kate, I haven't felt like that in years." His shoulders dropped, the tension giving way, finally to relief.

"That's great, Castle." She squeezed his hand. "What brought on the urge? It was the complex tax situation I gave you, wasn't it?" She raised an eyebrow, nodded, and grinned slyly. "Was it…taxing?" She giggled again.

"God," he said, rolling his eyes and for the life of him, couldn't figure out why he had been so concerned about this conversation. She made the hard things easy. "I've never heard that one," he said sarcastically as he chuckled, before he pulled her other hand into the care of his own. "No," he answered her quietly, suddenly earnest. "It was you, Kate."

She dropped her eyes and smiled as she bit her bottom lip. He decided that he could spend a million years and he still wouldn't come up with an adequate way of describing the feelings that shy and seductive little move invoked.

"That's…that's amazing, Castle."

He stared at her, his gaze dropping to the indescribable molested lip.

"And Montgomery? How does he figure into this?"

The out-of-time and space bubble broken, he dropped her hand and took a sip of his coffee. "I told him that I was writing again: that I'd been inspired." It was the first conversation of many of the things he never talked about in just a few days. He played with the spoon again. "I, uh…asked if I could come to the precinct some time, after the month end of course, and learn about procedure…and you."

"Oh," she breathed and stopped mid sip.

"Is that…is it okay?"

He was so uncertain, so different from the confident, talented businessman she'd met a few days prior or even earlier that night. She felt herself withdraw as certainly as she retrieved her hand under the pretense of wiping it on her napkin. She didn't mix work and personal aspects of her life.

"Kate?"

She attacked her lip again before mercifully releasing it while searching his eyes. He'd never felt as exposed as he did in that moment.

"Can you…I need…I need some time to think about it, okay?" She watched the shutters fall down around him as he closed himself off. She didn't want to hurt him, but she didn't want to be hurt either.

Castle searched her eyes for a moment. He had known he was taking a chance. "Of course," he said tersely as he signaled for the check.

He ushered her out the door and started walking toward her building again. Kate caught up and hooked her arm in his. She might as well as been hanging onto a fence post. He didn't try to shake her off, but didn't reciprocate or pull her closer either, as he'd done earlier.

Castle kept his gaze straight ahead. His mind worked on how he could convince her, how to let her know how very connected he felt to her. But he also warred with himself, because even though he'd only known her for a couple of days, she found a part of him that was dead and he thought buried and breathed life back into it, revived it and he couldn't let that go. He wanted it all: a personal relationship and inspiration.

Bending his arm, he tugged her closer and put his hand over hers. He stopped. The orange of the street light combined with the intermittent green neon of a tattoo parlor sign giving them both an wraith-like pallor.

"If it's a choice between you seeing me either at work or outside of work," he began, but she placed a finger across his lips.

"I can see what opening up cost you."

He turned his head to her, startled.

She smiled. "I'm a detective, remember?" He tilted his head. "I'd like to see where you and I go without complicating this…yet."

"Yet. You mean there's a possibility?"

"I mean I want to see you again and I want us to get to know each other. I want to know why telling me about your books was difficult."

"And I want to know why my shadowing you would be."

"It's still very new…"

"But it doesn't feel new…to me."

She felt dizzy. "No, me either." She walked to the steps of her building. "Let me think about it?" she grinned and leaned forward so he raised his hands to her waist to keep her from tilting too far. She grabbed his shoulders. She felt right in his arms and he swallowed, shaken. "I really want to get to know you," she whispered above his ear, her soft small breath warming more of his chilled body than should have been possible.

"So do I, but I want to know all of you."

His gaze was so intense. She should have been terrified, turned, and run as far away from him as possible. Shut this down, a tiny part of her brain screamed. For the first time, though, she felt safe enough to ignore it.

She blinked and smiled shyly. "Let me think about it."

"Okay," he agreed. She turned on the stoop, but he held her waist. "Kate?"

She turned back and caught the question in his eyes. Kate smiled and Rick stepped up onto the step and kissed her goodnight.