A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's reading and reviewing... and Happy New Year!

Pausing to grab her shawl, Mac left the room as unobtrusively as she could. She was halfway down the stairs when she bumped into Santiago, who smiled winningly at her.

"I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you earlier, señorita, but I've watched you and your… friend all night… I saw how you looked at him, and I just had to find a way for you to dance together. I know two people in love when I see it, and much as I would have liked to keep you to myself, I knew the right thing to do was to lead you to the one you loved." He placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "What can I say? I'm a romantic."

Speechless, Mac could only stare at him. So she really was so transparent that everyone, even practical strangers, had noticed how she looked at Harm, she thought. She wished she could just crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Where are you going?" Santiago asked.

"Just outside for a minute… I'll be back." Not waiting to hear his response, Mac dashed down the rest of the stairs, into the lobby and out of the door. Finding a quiet, hidden spot at the side of the building, she shivered in the cold air, pulling her shawl tighter around herself. The large shawl was made of soft, black wool of the finest quality, hand-woven into an intricate, old-fashioned floral design. It was one of the most cherished items in Mac's closet, knitted by an elderly woman she'd met in Arizona years earlier.

She could still picture the woman's face, features wizened and weathered with age, but still beautiful. Her wavy, waist-length jet-black hair had been beautifully streaked with gray, and her dark eyes had held a depth of wisdom and understanding. Mac had been walking past the woman's roadside stall when she had called out to her and shown her the shawl.

"I made this myself," the woman had said, and there was pride in her smile. "It has my love in it, my heart."

Mac had smiled back. "It's beautiful."

"It's yours."

Mac's smile had turned regretful. Her trip to Arizona had been made on a shoestring budget – she'd flown there on a whim, after the chaos and stress of taking the Bar, wanting to pay homage to the desert and caves that, with her Uncle Matt's help and support, had been the setting for the start of her transition from alcohol dependency to good health. She'd had a strange, restless urge to revisit the desert – perhaps it was her Native American heritage that had bonded her to the land, but as soon as she arrived, she'd felt at home, at peace.

But, as she looked at the shawl, studied the complexity of the embroidery, she decided not to even ask for its price – she knew she couldn't afford it. Gorgeous as it was, she could barely afford her motel room and a couple of meals every day – she certainly didn't have anything left over for luxuries.

The woman must have seen the look of longing in Mac's eyes as she admired the garment. "I learned how to make it from my mother, when I was growing up in Mexico," she had said in her soft, beautifully accented voice. "I have taught my daughter," she continued, "and she will teach her daughter. And so this culture will live on."

Mac had been moved by the woman's words, but knew it was time to move on. "I'm sorry," she said, "I would love to buy it, but I can't afford it."

With a smile, she had started to walk away, but the woman had called out to her again. Mac turned back, intended to firmly shake her head in refusal, but to her surprise, the woman was rushing towards her, the shawl in hand, with an energy that belied her advanced years.

"It's yours," the woman had said when she reached Mac. "Take it."

Mac was shocked. "I- I couldn't. It must have taken you many days of work to make this. I couldn't –"

"Shhh," the old woman had interrupted. "Never argue with an old woman. Take it."

Moved beyond words, Mac had reached out and taken it from the woman's fingers. "I have to give you something in return," she'd said, opening her purse to rummage through it.

"Stop!" the woman interjected, and there was a streak of anger in her tone. "Don't insult me, it is a gift."

Mac lifted her eyes to the woman. "Thank you – but why?"

"Because you remind me of my daughter – you have the same power in your eyes. And because there is something else in your eyes – something that tells me you are a survivor, like me. You have suffered much and stood strong. You deserve to have this."

Tears had leaped to Mac's eyes. Who is this woman?, she wondered. So she asked her. "What's your name? I need to know."

The woman had shaken her head. "You don't need to know. Just take the shawl, and with it, my blessing."

And then she had walked back to her stall.

Mac fingered the shawl, remembering that strange, emotional encounter. Speaking of strange encounters, her dance with Harm still had her heart racing. She couldn't understand it. It wasn't the first time she had danced with him, but the electricity between them had been so real, so magnetic, that she hadn't wanted it to end. It was the most memorable dance of her life. She sighed. Yet another memory of Harm to store in her treasure chest. There were so many memories there already with Harm at their center, life-changing moments that would stay with her forever… some happy, some depressing, mostly bittersweet, all precious, all poignant.

One day, years from now, would she be a lonely, old woman, opening up that treasure chest of memories, reliving each amazing moment, still longing for what could have been? Mac hoped not. She knew she needed to move on, to try to give her heart to someone who could love her freely and unreservedly. The trouble was, that was the way she longed to love Harm – and only Harm... the way she already loved him.

Lost in thought, Mac leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes. That was how Harm found her.

"Mac?"

Her eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself away from the wall. Harm went to stand beside her. Harm… why I can't seem to get away from you tonight?, she thought. Then, resigning herself to the fact that he was there and she would just have to deal with it, she sighed.

"So, is Mattie okay?" she asked.

Harm nodded. "Yeah, she just had a question for a project she's working on – she knew I was out at a party so she figured it was okay to call late."

"I'm glad she's alright." Mac kept her eyes trained on a spot on the opposite wall. She was afraid to look at Harm, afraid of what her eyes would reveal.

There was an awkward silence, then Harm asked, "Are youokay? I looked for you when I came back."

Mac nodded. "I'm fine. Just needed some air. You?"

"I'm fine. I was just looking for you."

Mac lifted her eyes at that, to find Harm looking straight into them. She moistened her lips with her tongue. "Well, I guess you found me," she said lightly, looking away again.

Another awkward, intense silence, then Mac broke it by asking, "So where did you learn all those smooth moves, Harm?"

He laughed softly. "It's a long story."

Mac sighed. She guessed that a woman was probably at the center of thatstory… probably a gorgeous, exotic, sultry woman who'd taught him to dance – perhaps in exchange for lessons for another kind.

"Well, however you learned," she continued, "you're excellent at it. Your hip action is amazing."

Harm laughed again. "Thank you – I think."

More laughter, then more uncomfortable silence.

Mac scrambled to fill the lull. "I had no idea you could move like that;" she said, striving for a teasing tone, "you've been holding out on us."

"Well," Harm shrugged, "maybe I was just waiting for the right partner."

Mac blushed deeply, grateful that the light they were standing in was too dim for him to see her clearly. Then she noticed he was rubbing his hands. "Harm, you're cold. Where's your jacket?"

Harm shook his head. "I'm fine."

Without thinking, Mac unwrapped her shawl from her shoulders and turned to him. Putting her arms around him, she wrapped the shawl around them both. As soon as she had done it, she felt foolish. "It's, uh, a warm wrap, and, uh, big enough for us to share," she mumbled awkwardly.

Harm said nothing. He looked down at her, and even in the dim light, she could feel the warmth of his gaze. Their eyes locked, and it was as though an invisible force between them brought their faces together until their lips touched. Mac's lashes lowered, and she felt an incredible sense of completeness suffuse her entire body. This – being in Harm's arms, kissing him – felt so right.

Harm's arms came more tightly around her, running up the exposed skin of her back, causing her to shiver sensuously. Their kiss deepened and grew increasingly more intimate. One of Mac's hands slipped to touch Harm's face, even as he pulled her even closer, feeling every contour of her body, so warm, soft, feminine and yielding that it almost felt as though their bodies were melding together.

Later, neither Harm nor Mac would be able to remember exactly how long they'd stood there, kissing, touching, finally giving in to desires they'd each held back for so long. All they knew was that, eventually, they allowed words to pass between them, warm and loving words, not just kisses and touches. And eventually, realizing that they were in danger of being seen in a clinch that was rapidly approaching scandalous, Harm said to Mac, "Come on, let's get out of here." So they'd gotten out of there – and they'd been together, and inseparable, ever since.