AN: My profound apologies for not updating any sooner, but I got tangled up in writing some other stories and well...life in general, I suppose. But I hope you'll enjoy this chapter anyway!

Spoilers: I asked my boss for a raise so I could pay for them, but what do you think? Nothing! Oh well...

Here we go...

Mac's POV

His food is as wonderful as it always is, or so I assume. I have no clue what I'm eating, I only have eyes for the one I want to eat…down, Marine!

After dinner, he quickly stashes away the dirty dishes, blows out the candle and turns off the stereo, all in one swift motion (despite of his height, he's so elegant), before helping me into my coat, his hands brushing against my bare shoulders, causing me to shudder. Yes, it takes only that to almost cause the complete physical, literal and mental meltdown of a Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Marine Corps. Let me tell you, it feels one helluva lot better than it sounds.

When I shoot him a surprised look, he just smiles again, o so innocently, like he didn't notice anything wrong. I'm sure he hasn't only noticed, but he's enjoying it tremendously too. I know him too well.

"We're going out, remember?"

Sure I remember, Squid. I don't say this out loud, since every single brain-cell has gone haywire, including those which normally regulate speech. Or breathing. Or thinking. Or moving.

Somehow I get out of the door, into his car. We're going out. Just established as much. Makes sense too, we're dressed to impress. But whereto? I know better than just to ask. It's clear he has something grand in mind. Dinner's out of the question, we just ate. But we've already passed some movie theaters on our way and we're not heading for the coast. Nor the beltway, which means that we're probably staying within the city's boundaries. Curiosity's quickly getting the best of me now. Come on, all you have to do is ask.

"Harm? Where are we going?"

"Downtown."

No shit.

"Gee thanks, genius. I figured that one out for myself."

"So why ask?"

Frustrating man! But I wanna know and I wanna know now!

"Ha-arm?"

Dear Lord, the man has me whining.

"Ye-es?"

And he's aware of it too, adopting the same tone with a devilish grin. I could strangle him if he wasn't driving. And if he didn't look so awfully handsome.

"Where are we going?"

"Short-term memory loss, Marine? That question is asked and answered already."

"Asked, yes. Answered, no."

I sigh, curiosity trading places with annoyance.

"Answered, yes. Sufficiently for the moment."

He shoots me a sideway glance and places his right hand on top of mine on my left knee. I swallow. Hard. He just smiles.

"Trust me, Sarah, you'll love it."

"I'm sure I wi…"

Wait. Hold on. Stop!!! Did he just call me Sarah?

His hand squeezes mine reassuringly before he has to shift gear to take a turn. I don't take notice. He called me Sarah…

He takes another turn towards a parking lot, but I couldn't care less where we are. He called me Sarah…

And no, I'm still not over it when he walks around the car to open my door, stretching his hand to help me out, like the gentleman he is. Right now, I'm sure I don't care where we are. It could be sumo wrestling, or a demolition derby for that matter, I'd be happy to join him.

It's not a demolition derby. Nor two fat Asian guys bumping into each other. Not by a long shot. I mean, there's usually no valet parking at those kinds of occasions, is there? We're at something very posh. It's…how the hell?

"Harm?"

My voice is nothing but a squeak. His is soft and content. He must enjoy the fact he surprised me tonight.

"Told you you'd love it."

His hands rummage through his pockets and come up one empty and the other holding two tickets to the ballet. The one I've been dying to see. He gives one to me and as I scan it, I squeak again. Balcony seats. The best in the hall. The ones I would have to sell my apartment for if I wanted to afford them.

"How…?"

"Hey, I'm not gonna give away my little secret. You just have to know which buttons to push."

I raise a very suggestive eyebrow and he sighs exasperated, while trying to hide an amused smile.

"Red light, Colonel. Get your head out of the gutter. Those buttons were a figure of speech, not the clothes on the figure of a lady."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Harm."

"For what? The buttons or the tickets?"

It's so easy to take the bait and have him go on about buttons and such (maybe even getting to talk about zippers next…), but I know him, he'll retreat and that would be the end of our so far, perfect date. So no, I opt for the safe way out.

"The latter, Flyboy."

Is it me or does he look disappointed?

My thoughts are momentarily interrupted as Harm gets his car keys returned. Thanking the young man, we turn to the steps leading to the entrance, as Harm starts explaining.

"I don't want your imagination to run away with you. So this time, and this time only, I'll tell. Meanwhile, we'd better get inside."

He offers me his arm, not even momentarily forgetting his gentleman manners and I bite back a smile. He can be so adorable.

"You know mom runs a gallery, right?"

At my confirmative nod, he goes on.

"One of the artists she represents is a man whose daughter dances here at the ballet. He gave her those tickets as a gift, a token of his appreciation. Now originally, she planned on coming over to see it herself, but something came up and so she called me to ask if I knew someone who would like to make use of them. And I thought of you. How's that?"

"Wow, remind me to thank your mom."

"Forget it. I had to sell my soul to the devil before getting these. I promised her I'd come help Frank build a new porch this summer. These tickets here were bought with sweat and hard labor, Honey."

The wonderful mental image of Harm in tight jeans with a bare sweaty chest sets itself in my mind until his last word registers. Honey? First he calls me Sarah, now I'm Honey? This world is spinning right out of its orbit.

Inside, he takes my coat, again his palms brushing my shoulders and again a luscious tremble floats through me. This time, he does comment upon it.

"You cold, Sarah?"

There he goes with my given name again. Makes me anything but cold and by the look of things, he knows it. All too well. All I can think of to save face, is denial. Worked in the past, should work now.

"Not cold, I'm okay."

Then out of the blue, he encircles my waist from behind, pulling me against him. Not aggressively, but tenderly, almost lovingly. His warm breath tickles against my neck and all that's holding me up right now are his arms.

"Too bad. It would be my pleasure to warm you up. Sure you're not cold?"

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I can feel his lips press a tiny kiss at the base of my neck. So no, I'm not cold. I'm having a fever. And the hallucinations that come with it. But hey, I can lie. For the good of the cause.

"I might be a bit cold."

He chuckles in acknowledgement of my blatant lie and the vibrations of his chest add another degree to my body temperature.

His grip tightens and for a moment that I wish would last a lifetime but feels like a nanosecond, we just stand there, me wrapped up snuggly in the embrace of the man I'm so totally in love with.

The bell indicating the dance is about to start (every pun intended), startles me. Normally my internal clock would have warned me, but it's temporarily been shut off from its surroundings. I think it might have perished in the warm puddle of goo that's my stomach right now.

Harm very slowly and reluctantly lets go of me as he quickly gives our coats to the receptions clerk. Now I feel cold. Come back, right this instant! That's an order from a pissed, desperate Marine.

He's back in a flash, maybe with the same thought in mind.

Turns out we have the balcony all to ourselves, while it easily holds a party of six. But since they're the most expensive and luxurious seats in the theatre, they probably weren't sold out. I couldn't care less. In fact I can't believe my luck tonight. An entire closed of little space for me and my Naval hero.

Gallantly, Harm helps me into my chair. It's strange when you think of it. Normally, I tend to want to slap men down when they try to play knight in shining armor, as the Marine in me doesn't like the implication that I need it. With Harm though, it's different.

Maybe that's because he doesn't play a role, he doesn't act. His usual demeanor and gallant manners around any female just bares the evidence of his upbringing and his strong, albeit slightly outdated morale. And maybe because whenever I'm with him, I'm not in Marine mode and I let the woman in me take over. The woman who loves the attention and takes pride in being treated this well. I can almost feel I deserve this.

The ballet starts and I'm enthralled. Very un-ladylike I lean over the balcony so I can get a closer watch. This is so beautiful. Suddenly I find myself wondering if Harm's enjoying himself as much as I am. Somehow he doesn't strike me as the ballet-type.

So I sneak a quick glance at my partner. And almost choke as I do. His pupils are dilated as wide as they can get and his gaze is so intense...It's the determined look of the fighter pilot, locked in on it's target. And no, it's not the ballet he's transfixed on. All focus of this 6'4" Flyboy… is on me.

He doesn't even look away.

Harm's POV

I don't like ballet. There, I said it. Or thought it, whatever. Sure I can understand how difficult it is and I do have amazing respect for the discipline it must take to dance on such a high level. When it comes to physical fitness, those people on stage could probably kick several naval officers' ass! But as a form of art, it's too tedious for a guy like me.

So why go there? Simple. Because she loves it. And because I love to please her. Her look of pleasant surprise when we got out of the car was my first reward.

The second was grabbing hold of her in the lobby. Just pulling her close to me, smelling her delicate perfume, pressing a kiss at the back of her neck, just allowing myself to touch her with a lover's touch if only for a moment. And her allowing me to. That's why I'm here.

And while she's sitting next to me on the plush balcony seats, captivated by the performance, leaning over to make sure she catches every move, she's the one who's captivating me.

With my night vision perfectly restored, my eyes adjust to the dimmed interior without any problem and as we're in a secluded area, I'm presented with the perfect opportunity to observe (something very different from ogling) the breathtaking form of Sarah MacKenzie.

I've always thought of her as a beautiful woman, no doubt about that. Yes, she's a Marine, one who can and will attack any predator trying to hurt her in any way. She can and will do the same for me. Has done so for me. And on several occasions she's graciously stepped back to let me take some action.

I like to think of myself as not just any man, when it comes to this particular woman. Dalton, Bugme, Farrow, they have all seen her beauty and style, they have seen more of her physical beauty than I have, but did any of them really see her, let alone appreciate her for who she is? I doubt it.

I know the friend. I know the razor sharp litigator, the negotiator (in at least 5 different languages), the fighter. I know the Marine as well as the Lady. The lady she is tonight.

Her dress, as noted, is created just for her; it has to be, flowing delicately along every curve of her body, evidence of a perfect workout. She's in great shape, especially now that I put just a little more body-fat on her. I like slim women, but Mac was downright skinny after exhausting herself during the Polenski trial.

Her legs are long and tanned, visible up to her thighs thanks to the split. Her waist is delicate and thin, her round six is…is it hot in here?

I'm still in my lovesick observational haze when suddenly, she turns to me, a question on her lips. One that never gets to be asked as she catches my gaze and holds it. Now I'm sure it's hot in here!

Mac's POV

This is the beginning and the end of it. I melt, again. The dance displayed in front of me is forgotten as the dance the two of us have been in for years has just changed rhythm without warning. I'm hypnotized. I'm gone. This is it.

It's hard to tell which one of us bends over first, but it really doesn't matter now, does it? This kiss is …oh my god…this is so agonizingly sweet. So different from the other kisses we shared. Those were all about defeat. Farewells. Regrets. The could, should and would have been moments of our rocky non-existent relationship.

This one is about confession. Yes, we're in love. It's about acknowledgement. Yes, it's okay. And promise. Yes, we're gonna make it work this time.

I honestly can't say how long we're attached at the lips. There is no space in my mind for any other thoughts, any other assaults on my senses than the feelings his arms, his lips, his tongue provoke deep within me. Damn, this man is one great kisser. Of course I knew that, but this is…stop thinking now, just feel. Allow yourself to feel, to respond.

And respond I do. I never had any guy give me a review of my kissing abilities, but I intend to give as well as I take. If the strangled sound coming from deep within his throat is an indication though, I must be doing quite well.

Harm's POV

Dear Lord, what's happening? Obviously, I'm kissing, but this isn't anything like every other kiss I either received or gave. I can't breathe, but why would I?

When I was a teenager, right after mom got remarried, I found one of her romance novels underneath her bed. Just out of curiosity, I started reading it. Remember, it was the seventies and the book ended with a rather chased kiss at the altar. But the (female) author did try to explain the joy of feeling someone's kiss.

I remember wanting it that way too and even though, during the years, I've perfected and expanded my abilities and techniques, I never really quite achieved the all-overwhelming sensations this lady author promised. It's both sad and an amazing relief to finally reach that goal; ultimate kissing. Should have known it would have to be Sarah.

She sighs and deepens the kiss even when I thought that wouldn't be possible. A strange kind of strangled cry comes from somewhere deep down. I'm a goner. No more thinking. Just let it happen. As long as she's allowing me.

Mac's POV

We only part when the applause erupts around us, effectively poking through the vortex we've created around us to shut away all hindrance from the outside world. We look at each other with awe and surprise. Then Harm chuckles and kisses me again lightly.

"I can't believe we just missed the entire first half of the ballet."

"What ballet?"

He erupts in laughter this time and I love the sound of it. After a long time of strained communication between us it's good to know his sense of humor hasn't evaporated. Truth is, as much as I dread to admit it, this wasn't a joke. For a long lasting moment I totally forgot where we are.

"Come on, Ninja girl, let's get some food or at least a cup of coffee into you. You seem a little…out of it."

"And who's to blame for that?"

"Don't have a clue. Give me a hint."

The only hint I can think of is giving him another kiss. Pulling me closer, he groans in response. Until my stomach rumbles slightly. Grinning, Harm ends the kiss with a lingering caress of his hand on my cheek, before reluctantly letting me go.

"Told you. You need some food. We can't live of love alone, you know."

"I guess not, we…wait."

"Wait? For what?"

"Love? Did you just say love?"

AN: This is where it gets interesting...next time (very evil grin)