A/N: So excited for a new Blue Bloods tonight, finally! Here's a new chapter. These two alone in a house together is way too tempting. ;)

"Alright, so that was my bad," Jamie admits, as he sits himself down at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. After he came in, I let him take a shower in the guest room, which I didn't need to dwell on too long, before he put his gym shorts back on along with his t-shirt from earlier.

Meanwhile, I had changed into dry clothes of my own and started making lunch in the kitchen when he made his way back.

"You think?" I quip, putting the finishing touches on his turkey sandwich - tomatoes on his, not on mine, mustard, salt and pepper, a pickle for him.

"I know we agreed all that stuff's off the table." He watches me and turns the glass of water I had set out for him on the countertop.

I nod, as if to reiterate it to myself. "We did."

"So I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment."

I look up at him and there's sort of a hazy sadness there in his eyes that he tries to mask as earnest concern.

"When we're on the job," he continues, "it's… easier. We're in work mode, you know?"

I nod again, and set his plate in front of him, then round the counter to take a seat beside him.

"Thank you. When we're just hanging out…" He spreads his open hands like he needs a moment to figure out how to finish. "It's almost like I forget."

"Maybe we hang out too much."

He glances over at me, silence lingering between us while we chew our food.

I go on. "I mean, think about it. We're going to spend all night together on duty. And here we are, technically our down time, and we're together. Maybe that's a problem."

Slowly, he nods, then shrugs, bringing his glass to his lips.

"Think about the times we've madeout," I tell him and he cuts me a look with a raised eyebrow. "Were we on duty? No. We were hanging out just like this."

"So eliminate hanging out, eliminate the problem?" He suggests.

I swallow, pressing my lips together for a time-killing pause. "In theory."

He looks at me, pensive over a bite of his turkey sandwich, then eventually swallows, drawing his brows together. "Well that's stupid."

I laugh softly, relieved that he didn't agree to that. "I know. I like hanging out with you."

"This is a good sandwich." He says it like he's surprised.

"Of course it is, Reagan."

"You've never made me food before," he muses.

"I don't only eat at restaurants, you know," I tell him. "I'd be broke as hell and have to move to Brooklyn, god forbid."

His elbow jabs my arm as he continues to finish off his lunch. "I like hanging out with you too."

"So how do we solve our problem?"

He gulps down some more water and sets it down, letting out a deep exhale. "Look. We like spending time together. We work well together."

"For the most part," I correct him.

"True. You're stubborn and sometimes you shoot your mouth off-"

"Hey." I ease my head back and give him a wounded look. "Is this what we're doing? Okay, well you're stubborn and you think you know everything."

Our insults, which are really just plain honesty, no longer faze each other and he shrugs in acceptance. "And… you've also grown a lot as a cop," he tells me. "You make a great partner, we've got a good thing going-"

"Mm-hm." I narrow my gaze at him. "It's just that damn mouth of mine, huh? You didn't seem to have a problem with it outside."

He glances down with a soft laugh, then clears his throat. "Your mouth is a blessing and a curse."

I smile and with a slow shake of my head, return to my food. "Thank you for saying I'm a great cop."

"You know it."

"Coming from you, it means a lot."

He downs some more water and lets out an exaggerated exhale. "You had an excellent T.O."

Even though it's my instinct to scoff at him congratulating himself, he's right and I can't help the warmth that grows in my chest when I acknowledge that. Sometimes I wonder if I would have made it through my first year as a police officer without him.

"Yeah, he's alright."

He looks at me like he's pondering his next move, chewing thoughtfully, then wipes a napkin across his mouth. "There's something I've never told you."

I eye him suspiciously over my glass. "Uh-oh."

"A couple years ago, Renzulli called me into his office and questioned whether…" He pauses to clear his throat, gesturing between himself and me. "Anything was going on between us."

My eyes go wide and the confession sort of seizes my heart for a moment. "Are you serious? You never told me!"

"I know. I shut it down."

"What made him ask you that?"

He shrugs. "Some call we got. He said I acted like a jealous boyfriend. I don't even-"

"Oh, the domestic, where that guy shoved me down and you beat the crap out of him? I knew Renzulli would have something to say about that."

"At the time, I maintained that I acted with appropriate force. But, in hindsight…" He stops to run his hand along his jaw in thought. "I could have gotten him in handcuffs sooner. If I witnessed an officer going that hard on a perp who was already down, I'd reprimand him too."

"What did Sarge say? I can't believe you didn't tell me this."

"He told me that if you and I appeared to have-" And then he wiggles his fingers to signal quotation marks- "romantic feelings for one another, then we would find ourselves reassigned to different precincts."

I study him for a moment while I process this revelation. Knowing this conversation took place makes certain things a little clearer. "So what'd you say?"

"I told him it was just sex, nothing serious."

I nearly choke on a sip of water and quickly reach out to smack his arm. He leans away, chuckling in amusement and I have to give him one more shove.

"I would kill you, Reagan."

With that grin on his face, he shakes his head. "No, I told him we were partners and had no romantic intentions with each other."

I huff a deep breath. "Romantic intentions," I mock the term, then shoot him a playful smirk.

He holds his hands out. "What else was I supposed to say, you know?"

"I would have said the same thing."

"So that's where I left it."

A quiet moment passes as we both finish our lunch and I ease off the stool to take the plates away. "So where are we leaving it, hm?"

He stands up and there's a pause while he thinks about it. After setting the plates in the sink, I turn to look at him and he eventually answers, "It's complicated."

"Yeah."

"I think we can tell ourselves we should keep it strictly professional all day long," he reasons. "But feelings are feelings, you know?"

I have to arch one brow at Jamie ever mentioning his feelings. "Romantic feelings?"

He tilts his head as his eyes roll to the side. "Please."

"Feelings in your pants?"

"How 'bout feeling worn the hell out by you and our day hasn't even started yet?"

With a giggle, I turn to take the bottle of mustard from the countertop and stick it back in the refrigerator. "Oh, Reagan. The many ways I could wear you out," I tease. "You couldn't handle it."

He keeps his mouth shut and just smiles instead as he rinses his glass at the sink. "Thank you for lunch."

"You're welcome. It's the least I could do."

He looks up and around the kitchen. "So show me the rest of the palace."

"You want a tour?"

His gaze meets mine, a split second too long, long enough for that flame that had cooled off to flicker back to life. "Yeah."

Softly, I clear my throat and start off toward the staircase. But I'm quick to turn back to him and I grasp the front of his t-shirt in my fist. "Just…" I look up at him, and press my lips together in determination. "No more kissing, mmkay?"

His smile grows until he exhales a quiet laugh. "No more. Line in the sand."

I nod, as if to finalize it, and gently shove my palm against his chest. Then my hand slips down into his and I tug him with me out of the kitchen, on our way to my old bedroom.