It takes only three weeks to complete our first case after being on desk duty for what felt like forever. However, Kevin and I could be in it for the long haul on our next assignment, which involves a four-star Italian restaurant, its owner and lead bartender. While the police nor the DEA have been able to confirm their suspicions, it's assumed that these men have been buying and selling large quantities of narcotics for the past nine months.

I learned that one of the reasons for my move to Lower Harlem earlier this month was because of its proximity to the Upper West Side restaurant, Trentina, where the drug lords are presumably based. My job is to visit the restaurant often enough to be considered a regular, thereby winning the restaurant owner and bartender's trust. I'll wear a microphone during these visits, which will transmit my conversations to Kevin, who will be in a vehicle nearby.

My undercover look for this operation is red hair in a cobra-braid side ponytail, round tortoise shell eyeglasses and sophisticated yet sexy business attire. I've been given six tailored business suits with collared blouses that fit snugly against my chest and four dresses that would be appropriate for Wall Street but sexy enough to make men (and some women) look twice. My job is to play the role of high-end Real Estate Agent who recently moved from L.A. for a more lucrative job in Manhattan.

The first two weeks, I visit the restaurant every other day at the same time and sit on the same bar stool. I order either an appetizer or a salad and one glass of wine and read a book while I wait for the food to come out. By day four, the bartender knows my name, Juliet Hanson, and enough about my fake backstory to intrigue him. The next day, I meet the owner, who seems equally intrigued by my looks and my job. I never stay at the restaurant longer than 30 minutes, making it appear even more like I'm just another average customer on her way to becoming a regular. Eventually, I tell Anthony, the bartender, that my boyfriend is an airline pilot, and I'm not in the business of cheating on him. (I've mastered the whole look but don't touch routine.)

During these two weeks, I text Piper a few times, mostly just to stay in touch. She takes her sweet time writing back, often waiting 24 hours before responding to even the simplest texts like, "How was your day?" I don't want to move too fast for her comfort, though it takes all my strength not to ask her to go out with me.

The third week of the undercover assignment, I ask Piper to meet for coffee on a Sunday morning—an innocent enough "date" that, I hope, feels safe with no strings attached. She replies back in record time: I'd like that. I wonder if she's been waiting for me to ask her out this whole time, and I've been anxious for no reason.

By Sunday I've gotten Anthony to confess that he has a lucrative side business. I don't push the issue during that visit, but the more I learn about him and Adamo, the restaurant owner, the more convinced I am that we're on to something big. There have been hushed conversations I've witnessed only briefly before they take the conversation into the kitchen.

The following Sunday, Piper meets me at a quaint coffee shop along Riverside Park, and I can't take my eyes off her. She's wearing a short zigzag pattern dress with tassels that hang a couple inches above her knees and a floppy white hat that she removes as she makes her way over to me.

I smile as her purse strap snags the top of a chair, and she's pulled back by the force.

"Hi." She returns my smile, though it's tentative—like she's hesitant about showing her excitement upon seeing me.

"Looks like you're going to the beach."

"I am, actually." She sits across from me. "We're leaving in about an hour."

I don't question who we is, nor do I comment about how she slipped in our finite amount of time together. "My credit card is open—get whatever you want."

"Your treat?" She stands again.

"It's the least I can do after you bought me a beer and got me an Uber after the whole Rossellini thing."

Piper breezes over to the counter, and I watch her every move. She still takes long strides and swings her shoulders left to right. Her calf muscles are strong, flexing with every step. I recall one night in bed many years ago when I spent an hour just kissing and rubbing her legs.

"Want anything?" she calls from the counter.

I lift my cup. "I'm good."

She returns with an iced coffee and an almond croissant, and I grin at her choice of pastries. When we were in France, I ate an almond croissant every morning and always gave Piper the last bite. The significance of the pastry can't be lost on her.

She returns to our table. "So, how's the case going?"

"It's going well. We're still not close to breaking it, but sometimes the long, drawn out cases are the best." I sip my iced tea, hoping to change the topic of conversation to her. "We haven't talked about your life at all, other than your living arrangements."

She tears off a piece of croissant and pushes the plate to the middle of the table. "What do you want to know?"

I lift my shoulders. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a freelance writer."

"Like Larry?"

"Hardly." Piper rolls her eyes. "I found work within two weeks after being released from prison and have a couple of long-term contracts."

I rip off a piece of croissant. "Like what?"

"I'm doing a monthly newsletter for Brookfield Place and re-writing the employee handbook for J. Crew."

I grin. "Do you get free clothes?"

She takes a swig of iced coffee. "No, but they're giving me a 20% discount through the end of summer."

I wipe the crumbs off my mouth. "Maybe I can get in on that."

She shrugs, her expression neutral. "Maybe."

I still sense a great deal of hesitancy from Piper—like she wants to talk to me, provide answers to my questions, but she doesn't want to divulge too much. It's like she's dipping her toe in the pool and deciding if it's warm enough to take the plunge.

"How are you and Nicky getting along?"

"Good. I told her as long as she stays sober, I'm happy to live with her."

"Clearly, she doesn't need a roommate. Does she just enjoy your company?"

She grins. "Who wouldn't?"

I raise an eyebrow. "True."

We continue talking about surface level stuff over the next hour, and the conversation never lags. She tells me about her last few months at Litchfield, how she adjusted to life on the outside so quickly, and how she's trying to find a place in her heart to forgive Polly for shacking up with her ex-fiancé. I don't offer much about my own life—she knows what she needs to know right now, and I don't want to scare her with detailing the dangers of my job. Knowing Piper, though, she has probably already researched the hell out of what it means to be an undercover agent.

After about 45 minutes and two more drinks, she glances at her phone. "I should probably head out."

"It still feels strange," I begin. "Sitting here, talking to you without bunk beds or bars between us."

She gives me a tender smile. "It is."

"I hope we can do it again." I push my chair back and stand.

"Yeah."

I take the empty plate and my cup to the counter, then return for hers. We walk to the door and stand in front of the coffee shop, both looking out to the park.

"I guess this is goodbye for now." I reach out to hug her, and she doesn't pull away. Holding Piper has always felt good. She feels safe and warm and smells like sugar. I want to hold her like this forever, but she releases me after only a few seconds.

"Enjoy your Sunday," she says.

"You, too."

I walk in the opposite direction, wondering if I should turn around, run to her and tell her that I've never stopped loving her. I laugh at myself for such an outlandish thought—we're not there yet.

Another week passes, and Piper and I text a couple times a day. Still, the messages are short and unassuming, never with any emotional context or flirting until later in the week when I'm undercover at Trentina.

I text her: Had to do a double take when I saw a woman today that looked just like you from afar. She had on tight, leather pants.

Piper responds: Leather pants in the summer? That's just stupid.

She looked hot.

I guess she did as she was probably sweating bullets in all that leather.

Do I detect a hint of jealousy? I smile at the thought, but I'm quickly reminded where I am when the bartender greets me. "Juliet, how's it going?"

"Good. You weren't here yesterday." I shove my phone into my purse, disappointed that my flirtations with Piper are over at least for now.

"I had to take care of something with my other business."

I give him my best seductive smile, hoping my charm will force his hand. "You never told me what you do outside of the restaurant."

He wipes the counter. "I don't think it would be appealing to you."

I lift an eyebrow. "Try me."

"Let's just say, if you ever want a different kind of buzz..." he trails off.

"I'm intrigued," I say, keeping my flirtatious voice in place.

Just as Anthony is about to comment, the bell above the door chimes, and his head whips in that direction. There before my eyes stands Piper. Fuck. If she identifies me and has another freak out like she did at the club, this whole operation is in jeopardy.

Anthony grins. "To be continued…" Despite that he's not a greeter at Trentina, Anthony is always one of the first people to welcome attractive women into the restaurant. This time is no different, and I become tense at the way he's eyeing Piper. While I don't think he presents any danger to her, I don't want her involved in this case in any way.

A woman I don't recognize comes in seconds later, and the two of them hug. Piper and the other woman walk towards the bar, and I try to avert my eyes but it's nearly impossible. It looks like she stepped straight out of the J. Crew catalog with her bright green dress and aviator sunglasses resting on top of her head. Her lips are glossy and her hair looks like it didn't have time to dry fully before she left the house. Her cheeks are sun kissed, and I wonder if she forgot to reapply sunscreen when she went to the beach on Sunday. She has always taken my breath away with her simple beauty, and this time is no different.

Piper doesn't immediately recognize me, and I hope my costume is convincing enough to keep it that way. I turn around, pretending to examine the salad that was just placed in front of me.

"I didn't expect it to be this crowded." The woman she's with gestures to the stool next to me. "How about here?"

That forces Piper to sit on the third stool, so as she faces her friend, she's also facing me.

"They have a great happy hour," the woman says, picking up the menu. "I've had the Chianti and the Verdicchio."

Piper leans over, peeking at the menu. "Never heard of Verdicchio. I'm assuming it's white?"

"Yes. The bartender will probably let you sample it." She lifts her hand to get Anthony's attention.

I don't get the sense that this is a date—it appears to be either a casual business meeting or they're just friends. There's no nervousness between them; they seem comfortable but not overly so.

I continue watching them out of the corner of my eye, sipping my wine and hoping to get out of the restaurant before Piper has a chance to identify me. While I hate to abandon the lead Anthony gave me, I can't risk Piper blowing my cover…again.

"Juliet, so good to see you." The bar owner, Adamo, sweeps in from the kitchen. "I have a new wine for you to try."

Piper looks my way, and I watch her eyes shoot open and her face contort. She seems to try to conceal her shock, but she's never had a good poker face. I give her a cautionary look, clenching my jaw and tilting my head, hoping she's able to rein in her shock.

"Maybe next time," I reply to Adamo, focusing my attention on him rather than on Piper. "You know my rule—only one glass per visit."

"You're far more disciplined than I am." He shakes his head, then returns to the kitchen.

When I glance at Piper, she's still staring at me to the point where her friend comments and turns around to see where she's focused.

"Do you know her?"

"Uh…" Piper glances from me to the friend, clearly perplexed about how to proceed. "Um, no…I mean yes."

"Piper is that you?" I stand and hold out my hand, hoping I can fix this. "Juliet Hanson, your brother's realtor. We met at the house in Chelsea."

"Oh, right." She vigorously shakes my hand, using the other hand to brush her hair back in what I know to be a nervous gesture. "It's been a while."

"Only a few weeks," I reply. She could blow my cover if she fucks up the timeline I've established for my having moved to Manhattan.

"Oh, that's right. Time flies. I was just thinking the other day, I'd like to…"

"Who's your friend?" I interrupt, saving Piper from herself.

"This is Paula Sharpe—the director of marketing for Brookfield Place."

I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm working on next month's newsletter, and we decided to move our meeting to happy hour rather than staying in a stuffy office," Piper offers.

"Care to join us?" Paula asks.

"I don't want to interrupt." I make a shooing motion. "I'm just going to finish my wine, and then get on my way."

I watch Piper's eyes rake over me, and they've changed from anxious to hungry. I'm wearing one of my more provocative dresses, channeling my inner Claire Underwood.

"It was nice seeing you again, Piper." I touch her shoulder. "Please give my best to your brother."

Her eyes meet mine; they're still dark and wanting. "Juliet." She recites as if chewing on my fake name for a moment. "Nice seeing you, too."

After Kevin and I debrief in the car and have a phone conversation with our field supervisor to discuss next steps, I go home with a smile on my face. I hop into bed and plug in my phone, noticing I missed a text message from Piper about an hour ago.

Hope I didn't wreck anything. Tried to play along, but that's not my strong suit.

I reply: No, it's not…You recovered nicely though.

Good…

The three little dots on my phone keep flashing, and I wonder if she keeps writing and erasing what she types. Finally, this appears: It was weird seeing you in costume…you looked good.

Did I not look good before? I lob out there, giving her a chance to flirt a little more.

You did…you do. It just took me a while to recognize you.

That's the point of being undercover.

A few minutes go by until she writes again. It's fascinating to see you look completely different.

I have to proceed carefully. If I take this too far, Piper might pull back. If I don't take it far enough, she might think I'm uninterested. So, I write: It's a big part of my job.

Neither of us writes anything more until nearly 11 p.m. when I text her good night. I wish I could get into her head. Clearly, she's intrigued by me, but she has yet to be the one to initiate a meeting or a date—whatever we'd call it.

The next day is almost identical to the one before. I go for a jog in the morning, head to the field office at 9, and Kevin and I go to Trentina at 4:15. My goal is to get Anthony to divulge more, and I'm going with the tactic of dressing similarly to yesterday to see if my physical appeal will accomplish that. Instead of a dress, I wear red cigarette pants and a pale blue button-up shirt with one too many buttons undone. I have on black pumps that put me over six feet tall. Presence.

I grab my usual seat at the bar and see both Anthony and Adamo conversing at the other end. "Gentlemen."

"Juliet." Adamo abandons the conversation and grabs a bottle of white wine. "I'm glad you made it today. This is the wine I was telling you about. It's a pinot grigio from my cousin's vineyard in Tuscany."

We make small talk as I taste the wine and Anthony brings me a basket of garlic knots fresh out of the oven. After Adamo listens to me sing the praises of the wine, he walks into the kitchen and Anthony lingers behind.

"About that buzz you promised." I lean forward enough for him to get a good view of my cleavage. "How can I get my hands on something sooner rather than later?"

He looks both ways before responding, "I don't usually do small end sales, but for you…"

I slip a $100 bill across the bar. "I'd appreciate whatever you can do."

He takes the money, shoving it into his pocket. "I'll have something for you tomorrow."

"Monday—" I correct him. "I don't come in on weekends. You know that." If I appear too eager, it might ruin the good thing I have going here.

The bell above the door rings, and Anthony looks up with a grin. I follow his gaze to see Piper alone in the doorway.

I want to smile, because the reason she came back has to be because she figured I'd be here, but she knows I'm working. I can't seem to get it through her head that what I do is serious and could have lethal consequences.

Then again, she's too fucking cute to send packing...for now.

"Anyone sitting here?"

I give her a disapproving look. "No."

"Juliet." She states rather than asks as she lifts the bar menu off the counter. "I like that name."

The better part of me wants to kiss the smirk right off her face. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know." Piper swivels her stool in my direction and tilts her head, looking as serious as I've ever seen her. "I tried to convince myself that for the last 24 hours, yet here I am."

I look down, trying to control the desire spreading throughout my body. I love that she sought me out.

"Hello." Anthony approaches. "Weren't you here last night?"

"I was." Piper smiles. "And the wine was so good I had to return."

"Glad you liked it. Was that the Verdicchio?"

"Yes." She sets the menu down.

I nod his way, signaling for him to put her drink on my tab.

Piper's body is angled so completely towards me that it must be obvious to Anthony she's not in the least bit interested in him. I can't let on that I'm interested in her—Anthony thinks I have a serious boyfriend and has no clue I'm a bonafide lesbian.

"Thank you." She raises the glass to her mouth. "So, tell me about yourself, Juliet."

This mission is all but shot to hell. I know that, and I'm assuming by now Kevin knows that. I half expect him to barge into the restaurant and drag me out. The device I'm wearing isn't a two-way system—he can hear everything on my end, but I can't hear him. I have to salvage what I can even if it ruins this moment between me and Piper.

"I'm working, Piper." I clench my jaw. "This isn't some fantasy game."

She looks offended, but I can't offer solace.

"I'm sorry." And I mean it. If she's into role playing, I can totally get behind that, but not right now.

She takes a long sip of wine. "Ok."

We sit in silence, drinking our wine, and it's oddly erotic. There's this down tempo music playing in the background and the smell of roasted tomatoes wafting from the kitchen. It's enough to ignite my senses. I catch a glimpse of Piper out the corner of my eye, and she's staring at me. We continue this silent dance for 15 minutes before I have to leave. I got all I'll get from Anthony tonight, and I need to leave well enough alone.

I take the last swig of wine and signal to Anthony I'm ready for the check.

"So, Monday?" he asks.

"I'll be here." I stand and toss some money on the bar. "Piper good seeing you again."

"You, too."

I shake her hand, which always feels good in my own, and then walk out.

"What the fuck was that?" Kevin asks as I enter the car.

"I can't predict who will walk in the door." I know it's a lame answer, but I have to offer something.

"You need to get it straight with her, Alex. She could compromise our mission."

"I know." I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the seat. "I thought I'd made that clear."

We abandon the conversation about Piper and discuss the assignment. Monday will be a big day, and we have to have a plan in place if drugs actually do get exchanged.

I'm surprised the weekend comes and goes without hearing from Piper. While I'd love to get some clarity as to what she's thinking when she showed up at the restaurant, my time and energy needs to focus on the Trentina case. As soon as it's over, I hope Piper and I can spend more time together and figure out where things are headed.

I show up at the field office just before 9 a.m. and I stop in my tracks when I see her sitting in the reception area.

She stands with an anxious look on her face. "How would this work?"

My mind has been so fixated on what I have to do at work today that I'm completely caught off guard by her presence and her question. It feels like I'm untangling Christmas lights in my head, and it takes me a few seconds to make words flow out of my mouth.

"How would what work?"

"You and me…" She gulps. "Us."

"As in…" I gesture a finger from her to me. "Us, us?"

She nods.

I take her by the hand and all but jog down the hallway towards my office.

I release her hand and eye Kevin. "I need the room."

He rolls his chair back and stares at us. "What for?"

"Now, Kevin."

He gives me a look, but I don't care what he's thinking or if he's judging me. He slowly stands, grabs a folder off his desk and squeezes past Piper in the doorway.

I slam the door shut and push Piper's back against it as my lips crash into hers. The kiss reminds me of the first time we had sex at Litchfield when she drug me to the Chapel. It's hungry and demanding and I can't get enough of her. Piper's hands tangle in my hair as mine dip under her t-shirt to touch her bare skin. I reach up until my fingers come into contact with a taut nipple, and she moans. My head is spinning, and my skin is on fire.

After some length of time, I pull back and rest my forehead against hers. "What inspired this?"

She's out of breath. "You're the one who dragged me into your office."

I place a string of kisses across her cheek. "I mean coming here, asking me how this would work."

She tilts her head, giving me access to her glorious neck. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the night at the club."

"Really?"

"Yes." It's Piper's turn to control the kissing, so she holds my face in her hands and kisses me. "I need to see if this could work."

"Clearly, it works," I reply, positioning my body fully against hers.

She pulls back, wiping her lip. "Not just the physical stuff—that part is easy for us."

I hold both her hands in mine. "Have you talked to Mia yet?"

She shakes her head.

"Call her today," I plead. "She'll be able to provide more insight than I can."

"Ok."

"It can work." I kiss her on the temple. "I want that very much."

Piper blinks up at me. "So do I."

"While I would love nothing more than to ravage you for the next hour, today is extremely important for this case I'm working on." I straighten the hem of her shirt.

She kisses my jawline. "Can we see each other later?"

"God, I hope so, but I can't make any promises."

"Nicky is out of town the next three nights. Come over if you can."

I nod, kissing her a final time. "I'll be in touch."

Before she exits the office, I stop her. "I'm glad you came."

She smiles. "Me, too."

Piper exits, and I'm over the moon. I run a hand through my hair and giggle like a school girl. The moment of bliss is short lived as Kevin walks in.

He plops the folder onto his desk with a grin. "You might want to run a brush through your hair."

"And maybe put some lipstick on?" I blush.

"That, too." He sits down. "Tell me as little or as much as you want."

I don't tell him much—only that Piper has been the most important person in my adult life, and we're going to try to make things work. He congratulates me, and then we settle in to work.

Hoping you found this to be a long, satisfying chapter. Let me know! Two more chapters to go.