AN: Thanks for the reviews, folks. I know I am early, but I couldn't resist...

Chapter 9

Penelope Garcia was seething as she looked at her desk. There was an envelope sitting there. Presumably, that was her sonnet. She was sure it was written by her lady killer, player extraordinaire, Casanova ex-best friend masquerading as her boyfriend. She knew her boyfriend: Kevin wouldn't be able to write a sonnet if his life depended on it!

"Penelope."

She turned to see Kevin standing in the doorway, messy hair, dishevleled checkered shirt and mismatched tie. He was holding another letter, one that was much smaller than the one on her desk. His eyes were sad, showing more remorse than she'd ever seen him have before. He looked positively miserable and incredibly uncomfortable.

At one time, she would've been moved and felt for him, but she was too angry at the moment to be touched.

"Kevin," she said with an artificial smile. "What a pleasure. You already wrote me a sonnet here; what do you have in you hands?"

He took two hesitant steps in the doorway and handed her the envelope in his hands.

"Read this first, please, and then read the sonnet," he said. "It will explain everything...and hopefully put me in your good graces again."

"Why would you think you're not in my good graces?" she asked, trying for a light tone, but getting brittle instead. Did he know?

"Just read the note, Penny. Please?"

She frowned, confused. "Kevin..."

"Goodbye," he said, a wistful smile on his face. He cupped her cheek in his hand, his eyes shiny and bright, and then he stepped out of her office. He pulled the door shut behind hm.

Her frown remained as she thought, What was that about?

"It would serve them right to recycle both of those notes!" she muttered, shaking off her thinking, but curiosity always killed the Penelope.

Using one of her fuzzy tipped pens, she opened the letter Kevin had given her, and began to read...

Hi Penny,

Last night, I talked to Agent Morgan. He had been helping me learn how to be a better boyfriend. He'd explained that you were hurt. I now know that I hadn't been the best to you, and for that, I am truly sorry. You deserved better. Please forgive me.

When you had requested a sonnet, it was something I knew I couldn't write. I asked Agent Morgan to help me—or to write the sonnet himself. He told me I should be able to do it. He could; it would be easy for him to write one for you...and only you.

I'd asked him why it was so easy for him...I think the answer is clear in his sonnet.

K.L.

With shaking hands and tears in her eyes, Penelope put aside the letter. She'd been wrong, very wrong, in what she'd thought. She wiped away the tears that fell on her cheeks, said a prayer of blessing that Kevin shut the door, and reached for the other envelope.

It was already open; when she pulled the sonnet out, she saw a small post-it note was attached. It was Derek's bold scrawl...

Lynch—I am done. From now on, you are on your own. Morgan

"Now he tells him," Penelope mused, removing the note. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, and then slowly unfolded the letter.

To My Penelope,

Sweetheart, you asked for a sonnet. I don't know if this is something I can deliver. I'm not a man that uses my words for my feelings a lot. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I want you to know, in every way possible, how special you are to me.

Sonnets wax poetic about charms and looks. I can do that easily. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I've seen a lot of pretty girls, even gorgeous women, but none compare to you. They don't have the sparkle that your deep blue eyes have that tell me you're thinking naughty thoughts, or how they glow with pleasure when you've helped one of the team.

Some of them have nice lips, but none have a smile that can heal my spirit, can make me believe again when I've lost faith. None of them have that full lushness that purse in concentration or quirk with that biting quick wit of yours. I hold them up to you, and none of the others compare.

Whatever color you choose doesn't matter when it comes to your hair. I always want to feel the texture, play with your curls, bury my hands and my face in the silkiness and never come up for air. I could do that forever, and die a happy man.

But that's not all. Your skin is a gift from God; only you have skin like yours. There have been so many times I have watched you, warmth and vibrancy radiating from you. You look so creamy soft, silky. I want to touch you...feel you.

Angel, even your laugh outshines all others. Did you even know your laugh was different, suiting your moods? You probably had no idea...but I do. From the husky, sensual tease that gives me shivers and makes me want more, to the tinkling, musical giggle you have when you're feeling playful. They're both you, and I love them both.

No one in this world has a way to soothe my soul like you. I want to hold you, tuck you away, keep you always with me. I dream of being inside you, part of you, in your soul, your mind. Forever in your heart, tucked away for safe keeping.

All of the things I have mentioned truly need no further words. They're you...

Indescribable.

Incredible.

Perfect.

Baby, I know this isn't enough-it will never be enough. I could write for hours, but I'd still lack the words that I know I need to say.

Every moment with you is precious. Every word that you've said to me, I can recall.

And I know...I am one lucky man.

Penelope read the "sonnet", and reread it, over and over. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever received, and regardless of what happened, she'd cherish it. Each time, new words became her favorite, new phrases became etched in her mind.

One thing was strikingly clear as she read the missive. Clear as a bell, just as Kevin must've predicted for himself.

The writer of this letter was in love with her.

Derek had slipped so many times writing. Nicknames Kevin had never called her came through solid and clear. Words Kevin would never dream of uttering came pouring out of that letter. It sounded exactly like Derek, things he'd think, words he'd say. Did he truly think she wouldn't know it was him?

Or could he not help himself?

She had so many questions, and if she sat there, she wouldn't get the answers. She grabbed a kleenex and blew her nose, and then wiped her cheeks. She reached for her mirror to fix her makeup—again praising Kevin's forethought in shutting the door. She realized at that moment she had a lot more to thank Kevin for. He'd done a selfless thing, too, and she would be forever grateful.

But now...more than she needed to breathe...she needed to find Derek.