A/N: This is turning out to be quite a bit longer than I expected. Also, it's probably deviating from pure fluff. Let me know your reactions, please!

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Enticed

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The microwave quit again the next week on a Thursday morning. Ordinarily, this event would have been something rather short of catastrophic. But Ellie stood in front of the nonfunctioning piece of equipment and wondered what vengeful higher power she could possibly have offended. The past two weeks had been ... not great. Devon was becoming increasingly distant, and uninterested in her. Although she'd tried some subtle questioning, Ellie still felt she shouldn't push him to share until he was ready, and anyway, she had her own issues to deal with. She had been using an inordinate amount of energy to try to control her unexpectedly overactive sex drive, and the universe had conspired against her at every turn.

Last week on Tuesday, John had suddenly decided to take up jogging – or if he'd ever done it before, she hadn't noticed until now. He'd done warm-up stretches in the courtyard while Ellie happened to be vacuuming near a courtyard-facing window. By the time he finally finished stretching and lunging and generally being catnip-for-women in a Casey-suit, she'd run the vacuum into the wall twice and into an end table once. She'd knocked off a picture frame.

She kept waiting for the intensity of her reactions to that man to die down, become something manageable. But it hadn't happened yet. She didn't understand it. In the past he'd just been the large, sweet neighbor with the eyes and smile. Seeing him in mostly skin had changed that, somehow. He was large, certainly that; heavenly, deliciously, mouth-wateringly large all over. But now she was noticing other things about him, as well. Sweet ... she was rethinking that. Devon was sweet. John did sweet things, but he had something else at his core. Just what, she wasn't certain yet.

And she was spending way too much time trying to figure him out, when she should instead be getting a handle on herself. This was demonstrated very well on Wednesday afternoon, when she'd been working in a patient room and a nurse walked by in the hallway calling for "Mr. Casey". Ellie had fumbled the bandage scissors she held and when she stupidly grabbed for them, got a blade cut across her finger. The person the nurse was searching for hadn't been John Casey, of course; it had been the octogenarian grandfather of a little boy who'd been hit with a baseball.

It seemed John was haunting her, though, because yesterday evening in the grocery store she had spotted him a ways up the aisle she was turning into. Without taking a moment to think, she whipped her cart around quickly to steer clear of him, only to slam it into a display of large glass bottles of cooking oil. Besides drenching her cart in oil and glass shards, this naturally served to draw the attention of every customer in the store, including the person she wished most to avoid. To her dismay, he abandoned his own cart and came to Ellie's rescue as a store manager arrived.

The manager was, to put it mildly, pissed. Ellie stood and tried ineffectually to assure her that yes, certainly she'd pay for every broken bottle. The woman only gesticulated grandly and exclaimed about damages and the people who could have been injured by Ellie's careless cart-driving. At which point, John interjected an intimidating snarl. That was it, just a curl of his lip in the woman's general direction. Then he turned away and commandeered Ellie's cart. But Ellie observed, marveling, that the thoroughly cowed manager seemed unable to say anything more. That was a skill she needed to learn, she thought, as she aimed a weak smile at the manager, who shook her head but moved away to supervise the clean up.

Then Ellie spent the next five minutes trying not to ogle her brother's friend as he bent and lifted everything salvageable from her dripping cart into his. That man shouldn't be allowed to wear jeans. And besides his fine thighs and rear, he had good hands, easily avoiding the glass debris and shaking clinging drops of oil from packages. Ellie offered a half-hearted protest at his help, which he negated with a grunt.

"You get cut?" he tossed at her from where he leaned over their groceries. The tone of voice was off-hand but his eyes, when he looked up, held a shrouded concern. Ellie, befuddled, hadn't thought to check. Berating herself for her distraction and wrenching her eyes from the cause of it, she did so now quickly.

"No," she answered. John grunted again - he did that a lot, she observed – and straightened up. He'd been setting a loaf of bread from her cart gently up against the jar of crunchy peanut butter that was his own selection. The bread collapsed softly around the round, hard jar. Her blood pumping faster, Ellie had to swallow and look away from that, with foul words roaming her mind that had never before dared trespass on her intellectual premises. She had to get away from this man. She was getting turned on by bread and peanut butter, for the love of ... there was absolutely no excuse for this. She took a deep breath, then another. She just needed to buy her food and get out of here.

But now he had all her things hostage in his cart, so she had to follow him around while he made his final purchases and she replaced what she'd ruined. She attempted casual conversation, but wasn't really feeling up to the task, and while polite, John wasn't really the type for pointless conversation. They finished in silence. On their way to the front of the store, they passed an elderly couple who was as quiet as they were, pushing their cart along in companionable silence.

John and Ellie got into the checkout line together, and with that togetherness image fresh in her mind, Ellie couldn't help noticing that they looked like just another couple out shopping. Annoyed, because she truly didn't need thoughts like that, Ellie tried to push them out of her head while she separated her items from John's. She placed the plastic divider between their purchases with a little more firmness, perhaps, than the action usually called for. John shot her a curious look from under a lowered brow. She ignored it as she paid – paid double for some items, since she had to cover the cost of the ones she'd ruined, which only added to her frustration.

The entire time, however, John hadn't done or said a thing beyond a few surface pleasantries. Manners personified, that man did nothing to make her uncomfortable except just be there. Unfortunately, that seemed to be all that was required to agitate her.

All of which was why she now stood staring at the microwave with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Two weeks ago she had been determined to figure out, subdue, and if necessary conquer her physical attraction to John Casey. What she had to show for her efforts were a broken picture frame, two stitches on her right index finger, and a credit card bill for forty-three bottles of extra virgin olive oil. And now the microwave had quit again, as he'd warned her it would. She was going to have to get a new one. And she wanted to get it done before her brother found out.

But the universe being its conspiratorial self, Chuck walked into the dining room as she was unplugging the cursed device from the wall.

"It finally give up the ghost?" he asked.

Ellie nodded and said nothing, hoping he'd move on. He didn't. Curse him too.

"Gonna have to go out and get a new one."

Ellie nodded again, noncommittally, not giving him any reason to think this was anything but a minor issue. But Chuck still didn't let it go. Instead he fished in his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and removed his Buy More employee discount card. When she saw what he held, Ellie shook her head.

"I think I'll try Large-Mart," she admitted to him. And then lied about the reason. "I've heard they might have some good prices."

Liar, liar, liar! her conscience taunted. Ellie knew for a fact that John was working at the Buy More today. And tomorrow. His schedule there was pretty regular. And she just didn't want to have to deal with the sight of him lifting any heavy boxes. Or bending down to talk to a customer, which he did because he was taller than all of them. Or even just standing as she'd seen him do sometimes. His arms would be folded and his eyes moving about alertly, as though he was a medieval knight on guard duty at the castle's gate, and the rampaging hordes might attack at any moment. The way she'd been feeling, she'd find that too sexy for words. She might just end up offering to be his maiden in distress.

And there was always that hint of a smirk on his face, as though he knew everything it was important to know, and you didn't, and he wasn't telling. She didn't know what that was about, but somehow, she found it just as enticing as his knight-defending-the-castle pose.

Chuck was giving her a puzzled look. "They're not going to have any prices that beat my discount," he said. He shoved the card at her. "I'd pick one up for you myself, but I'm going out of town tonight."

"You're doing that a lot lately," Ellie commented, not taking the card. Maybe she could distract him and still avoid the Buy More.

"Yeah, well, Sarah and I ... we're working some things out."

Ellie kept the frown off her face carefully. She still questioned whether that whole Jill thing had truly been resolved, in Chuck's heart. First loves were so rough on some people.

"I'm glad you're working it out," she offered, turning away toward the doorway. But Chuck reached around in front of her to push his discount card into her hand. With a suppressed sigh and a very un-heartfelt thank-you, she took it. She didn't have an argument that wouldn't sound crazy. As she walked away from her brother, she briefly pictured telling him the truth. 'Actually, Chuck, I've been drooling over your big man-hunk of a friend ever since I saw him nearly naked, and I'm afraid that too much exposure might cause me to actually try to jump his bones'. Chuck would ... well; she couldn't quite imagine his reaction to that kind of revelation. But she was sure it would be memorable.

So that night after work, once she'd heard from Devon that he wasn't going to be home over the next two days due to a last-minute biking trip with friends, she drove determinedly to the Buy More. Though tempted to linger in the parking lot or skulk in the entranceway trying to scout out John's location, she wasted no time going in. She'd learned the folly of trying to avoid that man – who was becoming That Man in her head - at the grocery store. It was best to just directly approach him and get it over with.

And there he was, holding his knight's post by the toasters, just a stone's throw from the microwaves. He currently faced away from her but there was no way he wouldn't see her once she entered the microwave aisle. Ellie suppressed a sigh, and a swallow at the sight of his khaki-clad behind, and advanced on his position. Relax, and be friendly. Keeping it light, surely that was the key.

"Hey, John," she called, smiling. He started to turn in her direction. Pleased with the light tone she'd achieved, she continued with a little joke. "Is the castle secure?"

As the words exited her mouth, she realized he wouldn't have a clue what she was talking about. Idiot! But his head whipped around so fast she was surprised he didn't sustain a concussion. Narrowed eyes bit into hers like blue lasers. Surprised by the intentness of his expression, Ellie pulled up short.

He took in her reaction, and she watched with mounting puzzlement as he visibly, almost methodically, relaxed. He unfolded his arms; cocked his head slightly; and quirked one corner of his mouth up.

"What was that?" he said with ease. Lightly. As though he hadn't nearly given himself whiplash five seconds ago.

"Ah ... sorry," Ellie said, befuddled. She was in that state way too frequently in his presence, and it was truly getting old. "A little inside joke, I guess, where I'm the only insider." Wow, she really did sound as stupid as she had the day she'd knocked on his door to ask for help with her microwave. Which was not an experience she wanted to relive right now. "You just sometimes look ..." like a knight in shining armor. "Rather military, the way you, ah, stand so straight and assess your environment."

He tilted his head a little more. "What was that about a castle?" Casual, very casual. But she still had the impression of an unsheathed sword held ready to strike.

"Hmm." She was blushing, curse it; her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "You know, knights, castles that need defended ..." she shrugged nervously, and let her voice taper off before she blurted out that hideous knight-in-shining-armor comparison. This was bad enough as it was.

"Hm." He grunted, and his stance loosened up even more. Watching his shoulders relax, she forced a friendly smile.

"Well, nice seeing you," it was a little traumatic but I guess not as bad as it could have been, "I'll get out of your way."

She moved to edge around him, but damn him, he followed her. "You're shopping for a microwave?"

"Yeah, the other one died again, just like you said it would". Boost his ego and send him off happy. She quickened her step. But he kept up. "I've got Chuck's discount card," she added lamely, as filler for a silence she was certain would be awkward.

They were before the rows of microwaves, now. John showed no signs of leaving. Was he hoping for a commission? She didn't want to deny him his income, but she'd really rather anyone else help her. Even Morgan. She looked around for someone, but this part of the store seemed to have cleared out. The universe really had it in for her, it seemed. So far she'd been doing relatively well with not letting her inappropriate mental meanderings make it out of her mouth. But she had no guarantee of that presence of mind lasting.

Insisting on getting another salesperson would seem nuts, though, as well as insulting, and he appeared determined to stay with her. So she would have to let him. She'd just get through this as quickly as possible and get away.

"What are you looking for?" he asked in a professional tone.

"That one," Ellie said, pointing at the first item to come into her line of sight. John squinted at it, then her. It was tiny and white, with a confusing array of buttons.

"Many people are choosing stainless steel right now," he advised her smoothly.

"Oh ... OK. Does it come in that?"

"No." He reached out and, horrors, touched her shoulder lightly to guide her a few steps further up the aisle. She felt the heat of his arm all down her side.

"This one might be a better option," he gestured, thankfully dropping the hand that had been touching her. She took a deep breath. He kept talking, as though oblivious to what his nearness was doing to her. "It's more suited to a household that frequently feeds more than one person." He stood back tranquilly, but not far enough away for Ellie's peace of mind. After a moment of frustration, she realized she was meant to examine the device. So she made a show of doing so, edging nearer to him and opening the door and inspecting the operating buttons. None of it registered, but she nodded her head mindlessly. When she didn't say anything, he moved again, once more placing fingers on her arm and leading her to another appliance.

Please, someone, make him stop touching me.

"This one is a slightly older model, but it has a good track record for reliability. It comes with a three-year limited warranty." He moved his arm away again; she could breathe again. His voice was even, utterly impersonal. She ought to be thankful for that but found herself increasingly aggravated instead. She wanted to know that she affected him the way he affected her.

When he momentarily turned his back, she shook her head sharply, contradicting herself. No, no she didn't want that. She wanted him to be utterly unaffected by her, because she certainly didn't want to have to fight not only her feelings, but his too.

Wait, no, not feelings. There were no actual feelings involved here, just hormones. That was it, and she was grateful that he was maintaining a personal distance. Really, she was.

"Mmm," she said noncommittally when she realized John had been silent for a few seconds and was looking at her expectantly. For those few moments the well-defined edge of his very fine jaw caught Ellie's eyes, stirring her ...not-feelings.

"What are your feelings?" he asked.

She jumped. "What?!" She hadn't spoken that 'feelings' crap out loud, she was almost certain.

"About this model. What do you think?" He popped its door open, at the same time sending her a look. It wasn't the puzzled look from the grocery store, though. It held something else entirely, something that clenched her abdominal muscles into tight knots and pulled her pounding heart down into her stomach. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

He finally looked away and she was able to also, toward the turntable that he was demonstrating. She dutifully reached in to see for herself what he was describing. He pulled his hand back at the same time, and they collided.

Just their hands. But his was as warm as she remembered, and hers was suddenly trembling, and instead of moving his away he spread his fingers under hers, steadying their visible vibration.

"You all right?" His voice was quiet. And no longer quite so smooth.

"No." No, she wasn't all right, because her fingers were sinking down in between his. Their palms were meeting. He was wrapping his thumb up over hers. And suddenly they were holding hands. Hers stopped trembling, held firmly by his strength, but that shuddery sensation had migrated to her chest and taken up lodging there.

"No?" His voice was low and rough. He moved a step closer, too close. His heat warmed her back and she had to firm her spine against what it wanted to do, which was liquefy until she leaned back and pooled all over his muscled chest.

Devon. Devon, think of Devon. With an effort, Ellie slid her hand from John's. His calluses – how did he get those rough areas when he worked in a Buy More? – scraped and sent frissons through her soul. With more effort, she turned to face him, and by the time she did so he'd backed away. Their gazes caught, just for a moment.

Ellie considered that maybe she should make a doctor's appointment. A blood test to check her hormone levels might be in order, because a reaction this strong to a man she didn't know well had to be wrong. She'd been standing in the kitchen appliance section of a Buy More turning to jelly because she was holding hands. With a store employee, for pity's sake!

"I mean, I'm fine." Ellie gave John a determinedly benign smile. He responded with a frown. She squared her shoulders, anyway, and turned her efforts determinedly to the task at hand. She listened intently to all of John's advice and followed it to the letter. She decided on an appropriate model. Then she had to bear the sight of him hefting the box to bring it to her.

And she still wasn't rid of him. Because he carried it to the checkout counter for her. And then he lifted it again and followed her outside into the day's last, fading light. At her car, she opened a back door and then stood shifting back and forth on her feet behind him while he bent to slide the box onto the bench seat. The movement stretched the material of his khakis wickedly over his deliciously sculpted rear. A nearby streetlight flickered on and highlighted things she was better off not looking at. But she stared anyway, weakly, and wondered what he would do if she just leaned in with both hands and squeezed. She wondered what he would do, explicitly, and what she would do in response, and then how he would respond and how that would feel. If what she was experiencing right now was anything to go by...

Trying to derail that dangerous train of thought, Ellie bit back a groan and closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. This was getting so ... just so beyond ridiculous. And worrisome.

And of course, while she had her eyes closed That Man straightened up and turned around and caught her. Caught her visibly struggling to contain her body's reaction to him; he knew that was what she was doing. She knew he knew because when she dropped her hand from her face, he was standing holding the door tightly, looking at her with those eyes that despite the gathering twilight were still blue blue in her mind. His jaw was flexing and his brow was furrowed, and his gaze was knowing. Wise. He was wise to her.

John moved out of the door's path and closed it. Every movement was sinister grace. His expression was intent and his eyes held a heat that didn't do anything to help solidify her spine. The last time he'd closed a door in her presence, it had served as a divider, a safety bar. But closing this one removed barriers. Without anything physically between them, Ellie couldn't work up the coordination to move her feet and back away from him. But she did manage to fold her arms protectively over her chest and her frantically fluttering heart, only to realize belatedly that she'd unconsciously mirrored his stance.

"Maybe we should talk about this." Was that her voice? Yep, it was, because he was reacting with a deepened frown. The man didn't have a lot of happy facial expressions, she noted, and wondered what the cause of that was.

None of her business. And off-point. She was talking out loud about her intense attraction to him, again! So embarrassing. But his face was the most open she'd ever seen it, and seemed to be saying that his insides were doing the same thing that hers were.

"Don't see that there's much to talk about," was his contribution. How like a man. But his tone was rough, even harsh, and so she knew that he wasn't brushing her off. He was just voicing what he viewed as their lack of options. Ellie acknowledged with a small nod that he was right. She wasn't going to break up with Devon, and she wasn't going to cheat on him, either. She just wasn't. And John, by his own admission, didn't steal other men's girlfriends. Or fiancés.

Which was all very good and admirable and left them both in a difficult place.

"Well, maybe we should talk about how we're going to not ... not ... you know." she waved her hand helplessly.

He didn't fill the words in for her, didn't say anything at all. He just pressed his lips together while wrinkling the upper one, an expression which conveyed as much frustration as she was feeling as well as affirmation that he knew exactly what she was talking about. She was relieved to have him acknowledge it but wound tighter at the confirmation that it wasn't only her own, oh just admit it, feelings that needed to be controlled here. It was his too.

"Maybe I'll ask for a few days off," John mused, staring over her shoulder to where the last colors of the sunset were fading away. "I'll go clear my head." He shrugged. "Maybe find a woman. Something. Get straightened out before I come back."

Find a woman. Something inside Ellie reared its head to roar protest at that thought, and she fiercely stomped on whatever that thing was. It was a good idea he had. An excellent idea.

"And maybe I should take Devon out for a romantic weekend. Rekindle things." Lovely, now she'd admitted out loud that rekindling was needed. Oh, well, how much worse could things really get?

"OK." John nodded crisply.

"OK." So apparently they'd decided. They were going to use other people to distract themselves from each other.

Well, that sounded like they were doing something wrong, when they were both trying very hard to do the right thing.

"It's the right thing," she said aloud, somewhat desperately.

"Yeah." He stood a silent moment longer, his hands shoved into his pockets. Then he nodded again, sharply, and swung around and marched back to the brightly lit store. Ellie refused to let herself watch him go. She got into the car, turned the key in the ignition, and drove away.