Bobby POV

Still feeling an anticipatory buzz from the provocative nature of my conversation with Eames, I watched her walk away and then shifted my focus to Logan, who had just taken a seat at his desk.

Be his friend, Eames said to me.

Surely he has better candidates.

Although maybe not. And he does look like hell, she was right about that.

So, I'll give it a shot. At the very least, my effort will make her happy, right?

And at best, maybe he'll become someone I can talk to. I mean, about things like Eames. Because I can't very well talk to her about her, can I?

And I'd love to get someone else's opinion about what's going on between us.

Nothing's going on, my mind supplied. She's still mad.

I paused and thought about that for a moment.

She is a little mad, I think. But not nearly as much as she was before.

And her question about my sex life…is it just me or was she holding her breath, waiting for my answer?

I never really said yes or no, but then we got into the whole how much time does it take thing and she looked so…gut-wrenchingly pretty. I wanted to offer to show her, right then and there, on top of my desk.

And I know.

I'm not supposed to think about her like that, but I can't help it. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes lit up and it made me push the limits, throwing out that declaration that I do it right.

Because I want to be able to have these kind of conversations with her.

I want us to be playful and flirtatious. I need to know that she's there with me before I try to…well, before I make any effort to move things along.

Because honestly, after the undercover, I was just scared to death that she was going to request a new partner. If that had happened…I don't know. I don't know where I'd be right now. In a very bad place, I'm sure.

So I had to make that part of us right first. I had to try to get us back to where we were before Tates. And I think we're there now.

So maybe it's about time for me to let her know how I really feel.

Right, Goren, my inner voice said mockingly. Because as soon as you tell her, she's going to throw herself at your feet.

Please.

I'll be lucky if she doesn't draw her gun.

And then ask for a new partner.

Shit.

Would she do that? Would she leave me if I clue her in to the fact that I'm in love with her?

Maybe. Because if she doesn't feel the same, it would be awkward for her, right?

Uncomfortable.

So maybe I shouldn't say anything.

But she's the one who turned a conversation about Logan's sex life into a discussion about mine, I reminded myself.

So maybe I just need to quit thinking about the fact that I'm in love with her and focus on spending more time getting to know her, on a more personal level. Give it time to evolve naturally between us.

Content with my plan for the time being, I got up from my desk and wandered over towards Logan.

"Are you trying to take my place?" I asked him as he quickly stashed a photograph underneath the bevy of papers that littered his desk.

"With what?" he responded, and as much as I wanted to ask him about the picture, instead I stuck to my task at hand.

"That's twice this week you've been in Ross' office with the door closed. And not that I was trying to listen or anything, but…you were yelling pretty loud."

"So you heard?"

"I couldn't make anything out," I admitted, and then I smirked and added, "Well, I made one word out, but…"

I trailed off and couldn't help but smile as I thought again about Eames' comment that was prompted by Logan's outburst.

Live vicariously through him…

Huh.

I don't want to do that.

I want to have my own sex life.

With her.

"I think we need to get a beer again," I continued. "Soon. What are you doing tonight?"

"I can't tonight," he said immediately and normally his decline might have been a hint for me to back off, but then he added, "But thanks. Maybe some other time."

He looked like he was thinking about going back to work, and I know that Eames is going to ask me what I found out, and I really don't want to disappoint her, so I pushed forward.

"Eames said you met someone."

"Uh huh. So how are things between you two?" he asked, taking me by surprise with the deftness with which he changed the subject.

And with the topic itself.

Does he just mean us, as partners?

"I guess better," he continued. "Since you're willing to sneak out for the night and have a beer."

Apparently not just as partners, I decided. So what makes him think there's anything more to us than work?

"Sneak out? That would imply that she has some kind of expectation," I said evasively.

What does he know?

Or what does he think he knows?

Because I've never said a word to him about my feelings for Eames and yet he's acting like…like…I don't know. Like we're dating or something.

"Doesn't she?" he asked leadingly.

"What are you asking me?"

And I know I look guilty.

And I shouldn't look guilty because there's nothing between us and yet I can't help it.

I'm breaking out in a cold sweat over the possibility that he can read my mind.

"Nothing," he said with a casual shrug.

"So when do I get to meet this woman you're seeing?" I posed, trying to put the focus back where it belongs. On him.

"Um…I don't know."

"Do you ever let her out of the bedroom?"

"On weekends and holidays," he joked, and he looked like maybe he was going to say more, but then I heard Eames from across the room.

"Bobby, we've got another body," she said. "A woman this time, but she was killed in the same manner, and her toddler is our only witness."

I gave Logan a nod and then went back to my desk, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair. I noticed that Eames stopped to talk to Logan and I strained my ears to hear.

Something about a fairy tale.

And he mentioned that it's only been five days.

Sounds like she might know more about the new girlfriend than I do.

And why does that bother me so much?

Because if there are going to be personal-life discussions going on, I want to be involved, I thought. I want to be a part of every aspect of her life and yet it seems she and Logan have a close bond. Closer than mine and hers?

"Wait, I don't need to hear the details of your sex life," I heard her say, and I relaxed marginally.

Because she did ask about my sex life. That has to mean something.

What would she have done if I'd said that I do have one?

Or if I'd said the truth, and admitted that it's been years.

If I'd gone with the latter, she probably would've looked at me with pity, I decided.

I wonder how long it's been for her?

Days? Weeks? Months?

I'd prefer years, but I guess I don't have any say in the matter. Although maybe one of these days, I'll figure out a way to work it into the conversation.

So…Eames…when was the last time you had sex?

Yeah, that'd go over well.

She'd probably shoot me and call it a day.

"Ready?"

Eames' voice, directly behind me, startled me out of my lecherous thoughts. I whirled around and looked at her, surely with a guilty expression on my face, but she just looked up at me expectantly.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah…um…yeah," I managed to say. Her close proximity is throwing me because it's usually me who invades her space, not the other way around, and when I do it, I'm prepared for it and able to keep a tight rein on myself.

But her unexpected nearness along with the lewd nature of my thoughts combined to make me temporarily lose my handle on my self-restraint.

Which means I looked at her chest.

I know. It's a big no-no. And I've been really, really good about not doing it.

Or at least, not doing it when she's looking at me.

And yet at this moment, I couldn't stop myself.

And I couldn't stop the unbelievably inappropriate question that popped into my mind:

What color bra is she wearing?

Some people might think she's a white cotton kind of girl, but I don't know…my money's on something more along the lines of black lace. A hidden reminder that she's a woman despite working in what's traditionally considered a man's world.

She doesn't have to remind me that she's a woman.

My lustful gaze didn't last more than a split second, but as I brought my eyes back up to where they belong, she was smirking at me.

She's…amused that I looked? Or she likes that I looked? Or…what?

I'm not sure, but maybe I won't try so hard not to look and see where that gets me.

"We have to actually leave if we want to go to the crime scene," she stated, gesturing towards the elevator.

"After you," I said solicitously. She rolled her eyes at me and then started walking and I fell in step behind her.

Logan was looking at her butt the other day, I reminded myself. Why? And she didn't tear him to shreds about it. Why not?

Yeah, he and I need more than two minutes of chatting time in the office.

"So what'd you find out?" Eames asked me once we were on the elevator.

"Next to nothing. I only had a minute before you came to get me."

"How long does it take?"

"Are we back to that again?" I asked playfully.

She smirked again and we stood in awkward silence for a moment as we rode down to the parking garage, and I was suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emotion.

Of gratitude.

Because she didn't walk away from me when times got tough.

When I screwed up.

Because yeah, I know I screwed up. I should've told her. I honestly thought I was protecting her, but in hindsight, I can completely understand why she was so upset with me.

But still…she stayed. How many people can I say that about?

"Um…you know, I'm not sure if I ever really said it right, but…I…" I began ineloquently, and then the elevator came to a stop on the second floor and two officers joined us.

I clammed up and looked at the floor, but I could feel the heat of her gaze on me, and I know she's dying to ask me what I was going to say, but as usual, she doesn't question the fact that I want to wait for privacy.

We got to the parking garage and the two officers got off ahead of us and then we made our way to the SUV.

"So," she said as she pulled the keys from her pocket. "You can't say it right, but you know you do it right. I don't know, Bobby."

I barked out a laugh at her unexpected tease and she glanced over her shoulder at me with a smile on her face and oh my God, this right here is what I've been waiting for.

This perfectly-in-sync feeling.

"Are you doubting my sexual prowess, Eames?" I replied bravely, hoping to provoke a reaction from her.

Because Eames can talk the talk, that's for sure. I've heard her discuss the most kinky of sex acts without batting an eye.

But I think that's only because it's not personal. I'm wondering if I can detect a difference in her when I'm talking about me. And at the very least, even if she's never considered me as a potential lover, maybe this'll give her something to think about.

She paused at the driver's side door and looked back to where I was standing, still at the rear of the vehicle.

"Should I?"

"Not unless you like being wrong," I answered with a grin, and then I moved around to the passenger side and got into the SUV.

It was a few more seconds before she opened the door and climbed in, and I'd love to know what she's thinking, but she doesn't say anything. She just put the key in the ignition and then backed out of the parking space.

And then I remembered what I was going to say when we were on the elevator.

Something that needs to be said.

"So anyway, what I was going to say earlier," I said, and then I paused to clear my throat, and to my surprise, she stopped at the garage exit and turned to look at me, presumably content to wait until I've said my piece before she starts driving.

The intensity of her gaze throws me for a moment and then I horrified myself by letting my attention shift to her chest – again. While she's looking at me. There's no way she doesn't notice, and this time was even longer than a split second because the way she's angled towards me causes her blouse to bow out slightly and I think I can almost see the edge of her bra and I have to know…white or black?

For the love of God, I'm fifteen again, I chastised.

And then I forced my eyes back to hers and she quirks her eyebrow at me, but doesn't change her position, which makes me want to look again.

But I don't.

Because I really need to say what I'm about to say.

Because she stayed.

"I just want to say that…um…I'm sorry," I managed.

"For…"

And I really hate to even bring this up, considering our reconciliation, but I have to let her know what she means to me. Or at least, on one level.

"Tates. The undercover. Not talking to you. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you didn't ask for a new partner."

"You…appreciate me," she repeated carefully, and somehow I think now I've made her mad again.

"Yes. I mean, you could've walked away. And you would've been right to."

"Yes," she agreed with a crisp nod.

"And I probably didn't deserve a second chance, but I'm thankful every day that you gave it to me anyway."

She stared at me for so long that I started to fidget. I can't help it.

What is she thinking?

"You already apologized," she said at last as she sighed heavily. "You don't have to keep doing it."

"I'm not sure if my sincerity came through. And I was just thinking about where I'd be without you and…I don't know."

"You'd be annoying some other partner."

"Eames," I admonished lightly, because how can she be so flippant about something like that?

"I'm sorry," she replied, shaking her head. "Um…you know, the undercover isn't what pissed me off. It was being kept in the dark."

"I know."

"So don't do it again."

"I won't."

"I need to know that you feel like you can tell me anything. That you will tell me," she said pointedly, and for some reason, I'm starting to feel like she's talking about more than just work.

"I do," I assured her. "I will."

Anything except the fact that I'm in love with you.

"Okay. Good."

We spent the rest of that day and the next working our case.

I never mind working on Saturdays because it means I'm with Eames. If I were home, then I'd be alone.

Friday night, I had a dream about her.

I know, big surprise, right?

But it wasn't just an erotic dream. I mean it was, but it was more than that.

Oh, and in my dream, she wasn't wearing a white or black bra.

It was red.

And then in Saturday night's dream, she wasn't wearing one at all. She stopped by my apartment with a bottle of wine and a DVD, and then I offered to take her coat so she set down her things and unbelted her coat, pulling apart the two sides to reveal that she was completely naked underneath.

I want you to show me, she said to me, sounding like Eames and yet not because as she said the words, she let the coat fall to the floor and then it was just five-foot-two-inches of utter perfection.

Show you…what? was my stammered response.

You said you do it right. Right?

Her remark was accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a quirk of her lips and I'm not sure how I managed to not burst into flames on the spot.

Must be because dream me is a lot more suave than real me.

Because what followed…me, showing her…it's the most x-rated dream I've ever had.

When I woke up on Sunday, the image of the two of us together was so vivid in my mind that for a moment, I almost thought it was real.

And I want it to be real so badly…I can't stop thinking about it. It's like Friday's brief foray into flirtation has opened the floodgate.

And after that dream, I'm not sure if I'll be able to look at her without picturing her naked.

I decided this would probably be a good time to have a chat with Logan.

Not because I'm going to admit my feelings for Eames to him, but…I don't know. Maybe he'll inadvertently give me some advice, even without knowing the specifics.

Unfortunately, he didn't answer his phone.

And he never called me back.

So I spent Sunday wishing I were at work.

And rehashing the dream.

I wonder what Eames would say if she knew I was thinking about her like that.

I also wonder if she's as bold and adventurous in the bedroom as she is everywhere else.

That consideration sparked a new round of images.

What is she like in bed?

Vocal?

Demonstrative?

Uninhibited?

And yes, I spent a little time dealing with guilt, too.

Guilt about sexualizing my partner.

I've spent years making the effort to not think about her like that, and now all of a sudden, it's all I can do.

Although she didn't say anything about me checking out her cleavage, I reminded myself. And she had to notice. So she doesn't mind me looking? I wonder if she'd mind me touching…

Needless to say, Sunday night was dream-filled as well.

Vibrant, provocative, arousing dreams.

That makes three nights in a row.

Which means three mornings in a row, I awakened to a raging hard-on and a desperate need for release.

Unusual for a man my age, but then again, how many men get to work next to Eames?

Just me.

When I got to work, I was a mass of nerves, anxious to see my partner.

And yes, I'm trying to call her that in my mind so that I can get my head on straight.

Because picturing her naked now is only going to get me into trouble.

I put my things on my desk and wandered into the break room.

"I can't believe I beat you here," Eames remarked when she saw me. She handed me a cup of coffee and then took a sip from hers.

"I had something to take care of this morning," I said vaguely. "So are you ready to go talk to the headmaster at the preschool?"

"Sure," she agreed easily, and then to my surprise, she looked me over. And I don't mean surreptitiously. I mean, her eyes took a slow walk down to my feet and then inched back up to my face. "Let's do it."

She smiled and brushed past me, where I stood temporarily paralyzed.

What was that look for? Is she purposely toying with me?

No, Eames doesn't play games.

But she looked, my mind argued. She scrutinized.

Payback for me looking at her last week?

I'm not sure. But it might make for an interesting day.

I ducked my head, smiling as I turned around, and then followed her to the elevator.

Eight hours later, we were back at 1PP.

The case is moving along nicely, but what's even better is that me and Eames seem to be moving along nicely, too.

She's been in a good mood today, which means she treated me to lots of smiles and witty remarks.

And did I mention how she looks?

Snug-fitting jeans and a dark mossy green sweater that clings to her chest. Brown heeled boots and a brown leather coat.

She looks absolutely gorgeous.

I started to tell her that half a dozen times today, but I don't think we're there yet. For now, we're just tossing around some looks and double entendres.

But still…I have a feeling that sweater is going to show up in my dreams tonight. For a little while, anyway. At least until I take it off of her so that I can press my lips against her bare skin…and then I'll peel off those tight jeans and…

"Okay?"

"What?" I asked, nearly bumping into Eames' backside as she came to a stop in the hall.

"I said," she repeated with an amused expression. "Logan's back. Go talk to him and find out why he didn't call you back yesterday."

"Yeah, okay," I agreed.

My compliance was rewarded with a smile, so I smiled back at her and then made my way over to Logan's desk.

"You never called me back," I said, feeling uncharacteristically giddy after the day with Eames.

And I know. We were working.

But still…she just…makes me happy.

"Yesterday. Yeah, sorry. I got tied up."

I laughed at his comment and that finally got his attention. He looked up at me curiously and then grinned and said, "Not literally. Although…"

"I don't need to hear it," I interrupted good-naturedly.

"Don't tell me Eames never uses her cuffs on you," he said in a hushed voice, and I nearly choked at the visual that popped into my mind.

Eames, naked under the coat, pulling cuffs from the pocket before disrobing…

Would she put them on me? Or would she want me to put them on her?

"What?" I managed to ask at last as I forced the thought from my mind. Because I'm not about to admit that I'm thinking about her like that. Not yet anyway. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Logan."

"So she does," he said in amusement.

"Eames and I are not sleeping together," I said quietly.

Again, his confidence about the idea that we are is mind-boggling. Is he just perceptive, or am I not nearly as covert as I thought? Or maybe he just likes messing with me and has no clue whatsoever.

"That's because you pissed her off, so she's closed up shop," he stated knowingly. "Maybe you need to romance her to help her get over it."

"Logan, it's not like that. We're not…"

"Every woman likes romance, even if they pretend they don't," he interjected. "So…show up unexpectedly at her apartment. With wine. And flowers. And then apologize again for that asinine top secret undercover. And then…"

His mention of wine sent my mind right back to the dream world, where she'd brought me a bottle of wine…

"Hey, Logan!"

Eames voice broke through my mental re-creation and I glanced at Logan purposefully, hopefully conveying don't repeat this conversation, and then I took a step back from his desk.

"I heard you were back in Ross' office this morning," she continued as she approached. "Maybe we need to move your desk in there. You know, to make it more convenient when he wants to chew your ass."

I love her sense of humor. And the easy banter between the two of them might make me jealous if she and I weren't doing as good as we are.

Might, I thought with a silent chuckle. It made me jealous as hell last Monday.

But that was then. And we've come a long way since then.

So maybe Logan has a point. I mean, I don't think I need to apologize to her again, but maybe showing up unexpectedly, during off-hours, with the suggestion of spending some time together…maybe that's a good idea.

Maybe then I can get a feel for the extent of her feelings for me.

Does she want to be more than just colleagues and friends?

Or is her fierce sense of loyalty only because of our close, working relationship?

"Something sordid with the new girlfriend?" I heard Eames ask as I tuned back into their conversation. Logan had his jacket in hand and was heading for the elevator.

"What'd you expect?" he responded. "Sordid's my middle name."

He moved out of sight and I turned to Eames.

"I thought that was my middle name," I joked as we went back to our desks.

"Sordid? Really?"

"Sure. What'd you think?"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully as she sat down. "Persistent? Relentless? Single-minded?"

"Single-minded?" I repeated. "Me?"

"You're all about the work, Bobby," she said easily, and even though it kind of sounds like an insult, it seems like she doesn't mind it. "You get into a case, and it's all you think about."

She couldn't be more wrong.

Although maybe not about the single-mindedness.

Because all I've been able to think about all day is her.

Naked.

"Maybe once upon a time," I conceded. "But it's not all about the work. I know that."

She held my gaze from across our desks and I'd give just about anything to know what she's thinking.

"Maybe so," she said at last, still staring at me with those luminous tawny eyes.

"Definitely so."

"Then maybe I need to come up with a better middle name," she said, finally easing back in her chair as a smile played on her lips.

"Want to get back with me on that?"

"No," she answered decisively. "I'm starving. Let's get out of here and you can buy me dinner while I come up with a good name for you."

"Are you asking me on a date?" I teased, and to my immense pleasure, she flushed a lovely shade of pink as she dropped her gaze and took her time pulling her purse from the desk drawer.

"No," she responded when she finally brought her eyes back to mine. "I'm giving you the chance to prove to me that you can have a conversation that's not about work."

"Isn't that what we've been doing?"

"While sitting in 1PP," she pointed out.

"Touché," I replied with a grin. "Okay, let's go."

Dinner with Eames.

It certainly won't be our first and yet it definitely feels different.

I don't care if it is Monday night and we're still in work clothes.

It feels like a date.

"I have to warn you," she commented as she breezed past me, heading for the elevator. I quickly followed, not even bothering to pick up my binder from my desk.

The case will be here tomorrow.

"About…"

She pushed the button for the elevator and then looked at me challengingly and said, "I'm in the mood for filet. You think you accommodate my craving?"

Mother of God.

"Um…I…" I began, my mouth having gone completely dry.

"Maybe we can go to Spark's?" she asked innocently as the elevator doors opened and she took a few steps inside.

She turned around and looked at me, where I still stood rooted to the spot and then she flashed me a smile that went straight to my groin.

I know what her middle name should be.

Dangerous.

TBC...