At 0900 hours the next morning, Carlton confronted Nemesis. He approached cautiously, after checking his tie and hair in the bathroom mirror (it was his favorite tie, O'Hara had complimented it once or twice), and all the while experiencing roughly the same kind of apprehension as when he had to sneak up on a criminal in hiding. Only this time, it would probably be a bad idea to draw his gun.

Melody, for once, was completely unaware of the detective in turmoil. Her attention was taken up entirely by the phone lines that had decided, quite uncharacteristically, to ring off the hook all morning. "Santa Barbara Police Department, would you please hold? Thank you. Santa Barbara Police Department, how may I help you? Chief Vick? May I ask who's calling? Yes sir, Mr. Mayor, but she's currently on the line with someone right now... would you please hold for a moment? Thank you, sir. Santa Barbara Police Department, how- Oh, no, I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number. Thank you. Santa Barbara Police Department, how may I help you? A tip? Let me connect you to an officer. Thank you. McNab? Line three, please. Sir? Yes, Chief Vick is off the line, I'm connecting you now. Thank you for holding." The frazzled receptionist replaced the receiver with a heavy click, taking a moment to breathe deeply while the phones were silent. A slight cough startled her out of said moment and her eyes snapped up to meet an increasingly familiar gaze. "Detective Lassiter! How can I help you?"

Be a man, Carlton. Face it head-first. "Miss Scott, how long have you been working here?" Three weeks, exactly, not counting last weekend.

"Three weeks, Detective." The girl looked troubled. "Is there a problem?"

"In fact, there is." Melody frowned, startled, and Carlton rushed on to ease her worry. "You have been working here for three weeks and I still don't know the first thing about you." He paused, trying to gauge her response. Did she know what he was trying to get at? "I thought that maybe sometime you and I could go someplace and I could find out more about you."

Melody shook her head, confused. "Wait. Are you trying to say that you want to interrogate me?"

Whoops. "What? No, that's not... I mean, well, I'll probably end up asking most of the questions, but that's not-"

The phone rang again. "I'm sorry, Detective, I have to answer this." Staring resolutely at the telephone, the girl removed the receiver from its cradle. "Santa Barbara Police Department, how may I help you? Detective Lassiter? Just a moment..." Melody glanced back up at the man, who currently looked as if something of his had just been burnt to a crisp in front of his face, and shrugged apologetically. "It's for you," she offered weakly.

Lassiter nodded, backing away towards his desk. "Yes. Well. Great talk! We can come back to it... some other time..." The detective turned around and beat a hasty retreat to his desk, muttering frustrated curses under his breath.

...

Advanced Whitening, or Advanced Protection?

Melody stood in the dental hygiene aisle of the grocery store, pondering Colgate. It always came down to the same dilemma. Every time she ran out of toothpaste, she would rush to the store only to realize that she didn't remember what variety of paste she used. One kind of toothpaste was the familiar, clean taste of every morning and night. The other was the startling, foul taste of oral betrayal. If only she could taste-test each brand.

Grimly, Melody reached out and made her decision, placing the box of Advanced Whitening in her basket and hoping for the best.

Minutes later the woman was walking across the parking lot, toothpaste in hand. Melody glanced at her watch and quickened her pace; if she hurried, she could make it home in time for the MASH marathon. Just about to cross the street and head down the block, she was startled out of her rush when she came face-to-face with the one detective that would not leave her alone. This time, however, appeared to be purely unintentional; his face looked as surprised as she felt.

"Miss Scott, hi!" The officer had his arms full with two bags of groceries and seemed genuinely happy to see the receptionist. "What brings you here?"

"Um, toothpaste." Melody bit her lip; she wasn't exactly projecting the most confident and articulate attitude around this man. "I just live a few blocks away," she added with a smile, forcing herself to relax. "Planning a big meal?"

"What? Oh, no, I usually shop for a week in advance. Saves gas, you know." He paused for a moment and glanced around. "Metaphorically. I walked." Detective Lassiter smiled, the first real smile Melody had seen from him. "So you live close by? Whereabouts, if you don't mind me asking?"

She didn't mind at all; she was still startled by his smile and how his eyes lit up. "Just over on Third, that way," she gestured with the box of toothpaste. Realizing for the first time that his bags must be heavy, Melody reached out her arms. "Here, let me help."

Reluctantly, Lassiter relinquished one of his bags. "That's on my way, actually. Would you like me to walk you home?"

Melody was shocked by the gesture. She hadn't had a man offer to walk her home since college. It felt a little bit like a romantic move. Although she supposed that one didn't get to be a cop and a detective without developing a bit of a protective instinct, and Detective Lassiter probably just wanted to make sure that she got home safe. "Sure," she replied with a little bit wider smile. "Thank you."

Lassiter smiled back and the pair walked in silence for a minute. Then he broke the silence. "So, Miss Scott..."

"Please, call me Melody," the girl interrupted, feeling uncharacteristically bold. Her request was received with another dazzling smile.

"Alright, then call me Carlton." The detective held her gaze for a moment before deciding that the head of lettuce at the top of the grocery bag was extraordinarily interesting. "So... Melody... how long have you been in Santa Barbara?"

"About a month and a half now. I grew up in Washington and got tired of the cold winters. So I went to school in Arizona, then grad school at UCLA." She shrugged, smiling at the sidewalk. "I got used to the weather, but I've never liked huge cities. Santa Barbara's about the size of the place where I grew up." She looked up, studying the detective. "How long have you been here?"

Carlton shrugged. "I've lived here my entire life." They halted at a curb and he reached out to press the crosswalk signal. "I've never really wanted to go anywhere else. Everything I know or care about is right here, and I'm alright with that." They crossed the street and continued down the block.

"And you've always wanted to be a cop?"

He grinned. "Well, when I was really young I wanted to be a cowboy for a while, but pretty much, yes." Melody noticed that his eyes grew troubled for a second. "I like knowing that I keep people safe, that I put the scum behind bars. I like knowing that justice gets served." The cloud passed and his eyes were neutral again. "What about you? Your life ambition is to be a secretary?"

Melody laughed. "Of course." She thought for a moment. "I still really don't know what I want to do. I pursued psychology because I've always liked learning what makes people tick. I focused on criminal justice because... I want to help the people who help keep us all safe. But, as you can see, I'm not exactly in high demand right now." She shifted the bag of groceries in her arms. "Sometimes I think I should go back to school, get a different degree. But that's a lot of money that I don't have, and I still have loans to pay off. So for now, I answer phones." The woman glanced around at their surroundings for the first time in a while. "There's my house."

Carlton smiled. "No kidding. I live literally a block away. There's mine," he said, pointing a block down. "Here, let me take that..."

"Oh!" Melody carefully handed over his second bag of groceries. She glanced up at the door to her house and back at the man standing at the end of her walkway. "Thank you for walking me home." She could feel the shyness creeping back upon her; it was frustrating. They had been doing so well!

"You're welcome." Carlton hesitated, throwing a look over his shoulder to his house before clearing his throat. "You know, I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Did the hopefulness dripping from Melody's voice sound as pathetic to Carlton as it did to her?

"Would you like to go to dinner sometime?" Don't leave it open-ended, Lassie, then she'll feel like she's trapped into saying yes just so she doesn't sound like a jerk. Horrible, how his dating conscience sounded like Spencer. "Maybe later this week? Thursday?"

Melody felt butterflies in her stomach. Not just butterflies, but exploding butterflies that turned into glitter and confetti. "Absolutely!" Too desperate? Did it matter? "Thursday sounds great."

"Great!" It was almost too good to be true. Carlton could hardly believe his luck. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

She couldn't help the grin that was beginning to spread across her face. "Seven sounds wonderful."

"Great!" This was beginning to be repetitive. "I'll see you then! I mean, I'll see you tomorrow, at the station, but I'll..." Carlton stopped and took a deep breath. "Goodnight, Melody."

"Goodnight, Carlton." Melody watched him turn and walk all the way to the section of sidewalk in front of his home before making her own way into her house. She waited until she had securely shut the door behind her before allowing herself to let out a girlish squeal and sink to the floor, still clutching her toothpaste. She, Melody Scott, had a date with Detective Carlton Lassiter. Her mind wandered to the bouquet of flowers currently residing on her nightstand. Was it all too good to be true? Maybe. But she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was just going to go on a date and have a good time. Beyond that, who knew?