Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who dropped my a note/review letting me know you're reading this. I appreciate it ;-) Now that we're done with my ego-indulgence, this chapter is where it gets juicy (and I know you totally already know where I'm heading with this fic, but it's the journey that counts, isn't it?)…

"Nadia?"

Normally, she would've been very amused to find an out-of-sorts Doyle. But at this moment, her mind was far too addled to appreciate the novelty. And she was slightly distracted -okay, severely distracted- by his disheveled appearance. His hair was tousled in a most uncharacteristic and becoming manner. He was clad in a form-fitting henley that drew her eyes down along his trim torso to where it lay half-tucked in the waist of rumpled jeans. She couldn't help but smirk when she noted his bare feet. Never in a million years had she considered there could exist a casual Mike Doyle, let alone one so very laid-back in appearance.

If he noticed her amusement over his unkempt state, however, it did not show as he bemusedly invited her in.

"What's going on?" he asked, turning to face her after closing the door behind her. Any notion she had about this being a different man than the one she had befriended evaporated at his curtness. Was he simply not aware that the polite protocol when a friend showed up on your doorstep was to see them settled in the kitchen or living room with some sort of beverage before the questions began. Perhaps, even some small chat. She could really use the time and banality of small chat to sort through her thoughts. But instead, Mike continued with his interrogation.

"Why are you here?"

That was a good question. And Nadia wasn't sure what the answer was, but she had always dealt truthfully with Mike Doyle. And not just because he could read her like an open book. She sighed. Well, at least some paragraphs were in a language he did not understand...

He stared at her. His eyes that had been a blue grayed by the haze of sleepiness grew sharper as they considered her and his brain stretched and shook off its slumber.

She had not planned on coming here. It had just happened. And it was probably best if she left. Before she had to actually think about the answer he was asking her for.

"I woke you," she said. "I'm sorry. I'll just go."

Nadia turned to do precisely that, but as she reached for the doorknob a strong hand clamped around her bicep. It tugged her around.

That damned piercing gaze of his. And the features of his face still lined with confusion, now edged with concern as well. It softened the hard line of his jaw, the stern set of his mouth. Nadia reached a hand around to grasp the base of his neck. Standing on tiptoe, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his before he could question her again.

A moment of shock passed between them. But it was a mere fraction of a second before their bodies reacted to the warm presence of the other. She may have initiated it, but Mike perpetuated it, sucking her upper lip into his mouth. The bite of his teeth was a hard, sharp contrast to the surprising softness of his lips. And then there was a burning wave as his tongue passed over the assaulted flesh of her lips. His calloused hand cupped her cheek, simultaneously manipulating the angle of their mouths and anchoring her. Perhaps he was anticipating the flinch as his teeth scraped over her lips once more, this time settling upon nibbling the bottom one. Instinctively, she pulled away from the onslaught of sensation, to find that Mike's other hand had come to rest upon her back, large, strong, and so very warm that it seemed to burn her skin even through her clothing. Goosebumps jealously rose in various other places not availed of his body heat. And she melted into the embrace as his tongue parted her lips and she willingly opened to his explorations. Her own tongue sought his, her mouth and lips growing eager to learn the feel of him, the taste of him.

The taste... He had drunk coffee earlier, the earthy, bitter hints lingering in his mouth, accompanying the distinct heady taste that could only be his unique flavour. They continued to kiss, not bothering to pause for breath, not bothering to think beyond the sensations of their fervent embrace. She felt as if she were burning up from the inside. An internal fire more intense than any fever or sickness, but one that rendered her just as delirious. It was a feeling she'd never before experienced.

She certainly had never felt this way while kissing Milo... Oh, damn!

With a bit of struggle, she forced herself to remove her tongue from Mike Doyle's mouth and free herself from his tight, warm, delicious embrace.

She stared at him, feeling her eyes grow wide with shocked realization. His hair was standing out even more rakishly for having her fingers twisted in it. His eyes, at first unfocused, sharpened and fixed on hers. They reflected her own confusion, and asked for explanation. One she couldn't give. Because what had just happened couldn't have happened, couldn't ever happen...

"I'm cheating on Milo," she said, before bolting out the door for the calm, and comparably cold, quiet of her car.

Her forehead hit the steering wheel with an audible thunk, but she didn't feel the pain of impact. Nor did it clear her head.

What had she done?

Well, the taste still lingering on her swollen lips made it obvious. It had not been some strange hallucination, dream or fantasy. Even with as unlikely an occurrence as Mike Doyle kissing her dizzy was, it had been real. And she had been the one that initiated the encounter.

Why?

Why? Why? Why? Oh why was she so foolish? Why had, after leaving Milo's place, she ended up at Mike's door instead of her own? Why had he answered the door looking so damned adorably disheveled? Why had she kissed him? Why had he kissed her back, for that matter?

And why, oh why, had it felt so unbelievably amazing?

A/N: Tut-tut, Nadia. Now what are you going to do?