A/N: Thank you all for the sweet reviews! They make my day. I'm such a sucker for these two, I hope you're enjoying it!

I try to force my body to stay asleep as long as possible, knowing I'll be up all night on the late shift. But it's hard in a different place and my schedule's all out of whack and I wind up making my way out of bed by nine a.m.

I kill time around the house, blow off some of that lingering heat I wasn't expecting from merely talking to Jamie on the phone with a run in the neighborhood. Then once I'm showered and dressed, I make a grocery trip for my mom while she's at work.

I'm mid-pour on a glass of lemonade at the kitchen counter when the doorbell rings. Knowing that Jamie's here, at the house where I grew up, both amuses and excites me. I can feel the smile on my cheeks and I have to shake my head at how silly it feels considering I see the man everyday.

With my glass in hand, I make my way to the front door and pull it open. And it almost hurts, the feeling in my chest when I see him there on the doorstep. The glow of the afternoon sun good to him, he wears a pair of gym shorts and his navy blue NYPD t-shirt as he props one hand against the frame of the door.

I have to arch an eyebrow as I glance down to see him holding a bucket containing a collection of bottles along with a small white towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Can I interest you in a car wash today, ma'am?"

Playing along, my eyes light up and I gasp with a hand to my chest. "From a real police officer? Oh my!"

He tilts his head, gazing down at me with a squint of his eyes. "New York's finest."

"You got that right."

He lifts up the bucket. "I'm serious."

"You're seriously here to wash my car?"

"I won't be shown up by a bunch of firefighters."

"I told you they didn't wash my car. I just watched."

"Exactly. Plus I figure it's only fair," he reasons. "You did let me drive it last week."

I nod, impressed, then close the door behind me and lead him out to the driveway. "Well hey, I'm not going to turn down your good deed for the day. As long as I get to watch."

"So this is the palace, huh?" He wonders, following behind me.

I point out the garden hose, then bring myself a camping chair out of the garage and set it off the the side on the driveway to secure a good view. "If you want to call it that."

"I'd say so."

"It's a wonder we were able to keep the house after everything with my dad. He screwed over all of New York, but he managed to take care of us, I guess."

Jamie busies himself unwinding the hose and gets his bucket of soapy water ready. "It probably helps your mom feel like, you know, she has some sort of normalcy. Maybe just a little."

I nod and drape one leg over the other, my bare foot swinging over the concrete. "I'm glad she's here and not in some random apartment she's never known. And I like coming back to visit her. It feels..." I pause for a cleansing inhale and sweep my hair off my face. "Like there aren't so many missing pieces, you know?"

One corner of his mouth perks up in a slight smile and he nods as he plunges a sponge into the water. Glancing down at my lap, I swallow down a pang of regret for even saying that. Jamie's lost more people dear to him than anyone ever should. What right do I have to gripe about this huge empty house while my dad's locked away for just a couple more years?

"Sorry," I say softly. "There are worse problems in the world."

Jamie shrugs and slaps the sponge on the side of my car, reaching over to make wet, circular strokes. "You're allowed to be sad about it, Eddie. Your dad. I mean, it had to be pretty blindsiding when all of that went down. And you had to deal with the fallout."

"That's why it's always weird to come back here. This town." I pause to sip from my glass. "I've dealt with it. But to a lot of these people, their memory of that is all I'll ever be, you know?"

"They don't think that," he assures me, then heads back to his bucket . "And if they do, screw 'em."

I laugh softly and prop my elbow on the armrest while I watch him. "Poor me, right? The girl sitting out in the sun in the middle of the day while a hot cop washes her Porsche."

"Hot cop?" Jamie fakes confusion and glances back over his shoulder. "Oh hey, that's me."

"Regular looking cop, I mean."

"No, I heard you the first time." He smiles. "Can't take it back."

I giggle and bring my glass to my lips admiring the view of him bent over to scrub the bottom of the door.

"I mean, I know I'm no firefighter, but I think I'm doing alright."

"You know," I start and my gaze lowers, following him as he wrings out his sponge once more and rounds the car to work on the back. "The firefighters had their shirts off, but otherwise, it's not a bad job."

Jamie tips his head back to roll his eyes and I have to bite into my lower lip to keep from giggling at my shameless bait. He tosses the sponge into the bucket and quickly grasps the back of his t-shirt before tugging it off of himself.

"Ha!" I clap my hands and my feet smack the ground, elated. I can't help but crack up and I'm met with the soft cotton of his t-shirt when he tosses it at my face.

"How's that?"

An exaggerated groan rolls out of me. "Ayeyeye, Officer!"

He glances down to scoop up the sponge once more, then arches a mischievous brow to steal a quick look at me before he returns to the bumper. "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Oh, you mean in the locker room where you purposefully take an eternity to put your shirt on? Like it isn't until you hear my footsteps in the hallway that you're all, 'Oh right, let me just casually remember I'm missing my shirt' while you're otherwise fully dressed."

Laughing, he shakes his head. "Is that what I do?"

"Seems that way."

He rounds the car to work on the other side and I catch myself staring at the muscles in his upper back, the way they flex and contract when he works the sponge in long strokes. Before I know it, my damn lemonade is gone. Between the heat and his firm, sunkissed chest and his sudsy, dripping wet forearms, and the beads of sweat along his neck, this is getting downright pornographic.

I clear my throat and set my glass on the ground, adjusting in my seat. "You'd better be glad my mom's not here," I announce. "This would get her too hot and bothered, young man."

He shoots me an interested look as he makes his way back to the bucket, dunks his sponge in and wrings it out. "Your mom's not home, huh?"

"I know. And I have a boy over," I tease. A wry smile coasts across my lips and I bring my feet up into my chair while I watch him approach the hood of the car.

He props one hand on the hood and thoroughly circles the sponge there and either I'm really sad and hard-up, or this is truly one of the hottest things I've witnessed in a long time because it's got me pretty mesmerized.

"After this, you wanna go up to your room and study?" He propositions, flashing me one of his boyish grins.

I have to laugh as I gather my hair off my neck and nervously twist it around my fingers before letting it fall back down on my shoulders. "You're such the Boy Scout, Reagan, you'd probably actually study."

"I don't know," he starts. "You in those shorts is pretty tempting."

I gasp dramatically. "Me? Tempting you? An impossible feat," I tell him. "You're un-temptable."

"I'd hope you know from experience that's incorrect."

It isn't until I shift again, setting my feet down, that I realize how quickly my heart rate has picked up. Not to mention, the heated arousal that pulses between my thighs. "Your honor, I'm innocent," I manage.

"Hardly," he mutters with a scoff, then drops his sponge and reaches down to pick up the hose.

Inhaling a deep, sobering breath, I push myself up out of my chair. I watch him pull the trigger on the hose, spraying the suds and they glide away, dripping onto the concrete. I look over at him and he twists his wrist a few times, spraying the length of the car before he playfully jerks the hose in my direction threatening to soak me. But I quickly dodge it. "Oh, no, I don't think so."

He smirks. "Sorry, it slipped."

"Mm," I hum doubtfully and make my way a few steps closer. "So I have a confession, Reagan."

He lets go of the trigger and lowers it at his side as he turns to face me. Resting one hand low on his hip, he gazes down at me. "I thought you said you were innocent."

My teeth scrape my bottom lip. I can feel my pulse there. I can feel it everywhere, shooting through the length of my body and throbbing in my core when I stand this close to him. My head could construct a perfectly logical reason for why I shouldn't want him the way that I do, but my body aches for him and overrides all of that. I can fight it when we're in uniform, but it's not so easy at the moment.

"The firefighters yesterday…" I begin.

"Yeah?"

With a slight shake of my head, I tell him, "They never had their shirts off."

He glances down at himself, then looks at me, blinking a few times.

My eyes light up and I offer him a perfectly blameless grin.

With a thoughtful nod, he narrows his gaze, glances off to the side. It's as if he's pondering whether he enjoys my harassment.

And before I can tease him again, I'm suddenly pelted by the spray from the hose when his hand squeezes the trigger right at my side.

"Oh, my god!" I scream, flinching away and I dart over to the other side of the car, but not before he sprays me once again in the back. "Reagan, no!"

He's merciless when he raises his arm and continues to spray over the top of the Porsche, and even though I duck down, there's no escaping the downpour.

"You jackass!" I shriek, much to his delight, then dash away, averting him, but he's quick to meet me wherever I attempt to hide. I rush for the bucket of soapy water, snatch it up, but he's too fast, scampering away, shooting me in his wake when I try to splash him with it.

I drop the empty bucket and race to the other side of the car with breathless giggles. Now I'm completely soaked, my v-neck sky blue t-shirt clinging to my skin which I'm sure he has no remorse about. Then he stops short, turning the other way and meets me head-on with another spray, this time on my legs, and I jump up and run the other way while he chuckles in amusement at my dead end.

"Drop your weapon!" I shout between my high pitched giggles, the kind that only come out when I'm truly in hysterics.

He finally stops and holds up his hands, still grasping that hose trigger, though.

I point a warning at him, arching one eyebrow as my chest heaves with deep breaths. "Drop it."

He cocks his head, simply offering me a look.

"Don't make me do this the hard way," I tell him.

He smiles. "What's the hard way?"

I push off my feet and race toward him across wet pavement and he lifts his arm away from my reach. I attempt to leap up and grab the hose out of his hand, but I'm too damn short and he seems to enjoy this easy game of keep away.

His cockiness gives way long enough for me to successfully jump up once more and forcefully grasp his wrist. I'm able to tug his arm down and I leverage myself against him so I can twist it behind his back.

When I do, he lets out this unsuspecting little gravelly moan as I pin him between my body and the car and don't let up on his wrist.

He could easily get out of the hold I have on him, but he doesn't. His back gives a slight arch off the car as he looks down at me with that smirk and that glow in his eyes that I've seen before.

"You'll pay for that," I assure him with a threatening glare. "Drop it."

He lets go and the hose falls to the driveway at our feet. When he does, I loosen my grip on his wrist. He quickly moves his arm and tugs me around the waist, and before I know it, lands his mouth on mine. He urges me even closer and it steals my breath for a moment. It takes a few seconds before I give into him because his kiss takes me by surprise. But when I do, it's like I melt into the tease of his tongue.

Without meaning to, I softly moan my appreciation, my hips tilt against him and I rise up on my toes, my hands landing on the back of his neck. I drag needy fingertips there, into his wet hair as the heat of his mouth lights up everything inside of me.

This isn't like either of the other two kisses we've shared, the first one timid, testing the waters while the next was soft, almost sad because at the time, I worried it was the last chance I'd get to be that close to him.

This is completely new, as if some sort of complex, tightly wound knot has been snipped and is eagerly unraveling, leaving us in free-fall.

I'm hyper-aware of the feeling of my wet skin beneath wet clothes, the slickness of him. The combination of it along with the barely there hungry rumble in his throat, his hot breath on mine is hypnotic.

His momentum slows and I feel him take a moment to draw a long inhale through his nose before he leaves me with a devastating drag of his teeth over my bottom lip, then releases it. The sensation prompts an unguarded whimper from me before he eases back and my legs nearly give out from underneath me.

All I can do is drop my chin, then I sort of head butt him in the chest and let out a woeful groan. "Why?"

I feel him laugh softly, his chest twitching beneath my forehead. "It's a problem, huh?" He mutters.

"Can you spray me in the face with the hose again? Because I just-" I sigh against him, my best attempt at a head-clearing breath because it seriously might kill me how much I'm turned on by him. "You're killing me, Reagan."

"You think it's just you?"

I cough a surprised laugh and manage to push myself away. Sliding hands up my wet face, I rake fingers through my hair that I can feel is starting to dry in messy waves. "Hey, it was you who said-" and then my voice downshifts into an impression of him, "it's a bad idea, for a lot of reasons."

He exhales heavily and pushes himself off the car, swinging his arms in front of himself like he's stretching. "It's a bad idea for a lot of reasons," he echoes like a mantra.

My hands drop to my hips and I peer up at him, arching an eyebrow to gauge what the hell we're supposed to do now.

His gaze meets mine and we share a wordless moment in thought before he tilts his head and tells me, "Sorry I got you all wet."

The smack of my palm against his shoulder is exaggerated by wet, bare skin and he can't help but laugh at himself.

With a huff, I turn on my heel, snatching his t-shirt off the chair and then the towel he had brought that was laying off to the side. I make my way back over to him and push the towel against his chest. "Go dry off your girl."

Then I point past his shoulder to the still dripping Porsche before I head back toward the house. "Then you can come in for lunch!" I call out, and offer one more innocent, eye-fluttering smile over my shoulder before I let myself inside.