Shauna rolled up the last of the athletic tape and stashed her medical scissors in their drawer, flicking her wrist up and checking her watch. Six thirteen. Damn. And I haven't even changed yet.

As she continued to clean up her treatment room, she went through her options. She could swing by her apartment and change her clothes quickly before heading over to the softball field where she was meeting Eric; it was on the way, and would only take an extra fifteen minutes or so. On the other hand she could just go in the khakis and polo shirt she was wearing because it was already…she checked her watch again: 6:32. Damn again.

Shauna sighed, feeling her compulsive need to be on time kicking in. "Okay compromise," she said aloud. "I'll just wash up quick here so I don't smell like football players, and wear what I have on. I won't look as cute," she grinned, "but he's waited long enough."

Thirty minutes later she was pulling into the parking lot, searching softball diamonds for a team wearing red and blue, Eric's construction workers. There were three.

"I'm gonna have to work for this one, eh?" she chuckled. "I guess that's fair—he came to me Sunday."

She cruised slowly through the complex, searching the small contingent of spectators at each field until she found him. He sat in the bleachers, foot tapping with excess energy, scanning the parking lot every few minutes.

Shauna giggled, pulling into a space nearby and hopping out of the car. She made her way to the stands, greeting him with an apologetic wave. "Hey."

His face brightened immediately. "Hey, you made it."

"Yeah, finally," she replied, plunking herself down beside him. "Sorry I took so long. I had a couple of stragglers that I couldn't get rid of—they're all gung ho this time of year about football, and won't leave practice."

"It's something in the air," he told her.

"You mean besides the pollutants and the humidity?" she quipped.

He chuckled. "Yeah, besides that. There's something about the beginning of a new season that gets you going. Always happened to me during spring training."

"The beginning of the season is when you need the most care, too," she continued with a smile. "Remember how sore you were during spring training?"

He winced in remembered agony. "Oh yeah. If I slacked off at all training in the off-season, I paid for it ten times over in the spring."

"That's because you didn't have an athletic trainer like me to take care of you," she grinned, patting his knee. "And why it took me so long to get here—a couple of my boys were in bad shape. So what did I miss?"

He filled her in on the stats of the game, noting with an inward smile that her hand remained in place on his knee. He leaned closer to her as he pointed out the players on the field, telling her a little about those he knew and providing play-by-play commentary for the game. She responded in kind, leaning against his shoulder and asking about different types of pitches in an effort to keep her mind from drifting away with the scent of his cologne.

"I can't tell what kind of pitch it is without a radar gun," she told him. "Like that one, there," she gestured to the ball flying into the catcher's mitt. "I can't tell if it's a fastball or a change-up because I don't know how fast it's going."

"That's because your eyes aren't accustomed to judging the speed of a softball," he smiled, his fingers encircling her wrist and lowering it out of the way. Rather than letting go, however, he slid his hand casually into hers and continued talking. "Besides, these guys play for fun—there's not much competition and not a lot of skill. So a fastball probably isn't that much different from a change-up…if the pitcher is even trying to make the distinction."

"Good point," she replied, listening to his explanation. His movement, however, did not go unnoticed. She studied his face, an amused look in her eyes and a teasing smile on her lips, trying to read his expression.

Eric squirmed a little, but met her gaze. "What?"

Shauna laughed and squeezed his hand. "Very smooth."

"You like that?" he grinned, feeling his cheeks becoming warm. "How 'bout this?" He released her hand and raised his arms, stretching them out with mock stiffness and bringing one to rest around her shoulders.

She laughed again, laying her head in the crook of his neck. "The technique is outdated," she responded, "but it was executed perfectly."

"Outdated?" he asked, his grin widening. "A good CSI has to keep current…I guess I'm going to have to study up."

"I guess you are," she seconded, making herself comfortable in his arms.

They held their cozy positions for the rest of the game, despite the heat of the day that still lingered at the field. The conversation remained light and easy, a nice distraction from the grind of their respective jobs. When the last pitch was thrown, the pair reluctantly rose from their places in the bleachers, stretching a bit and making their way to the parking lot hand in hand with a wave to Eric's friend.

"So what now?" Shauna asked, stopping beside her car.

He drew her to him, resting his free hand on her hip. "Well, we could go get ice cream…" He cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, that was a really lame suggestion. I'm usually more adventurous."

She smiled up at him. "There's plenty of time for adventure," she told him with a twinkle in her eyes. "But actually, ice cream sounds wonderful."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "A hot day like this practically begs you to eat ice cream. And…I have a lame suggestion of my own."

He watched her as she spoke, wondering what she had in mind. "What's that?"

"Can we go for a walk on a beach?" she smiled. "I've been in Miami for almost a month now, and I still haven't been to the beach."

"Well we can't have that," he grinned. "And I know a perfect place. Come on, I'll drive."

Half an hour later they were strolling down a moderately populated beach, eating ice cream cones, their fingers laced together, enjoying the light salt-air breeze blowing off the water.

"Is this what you had in mind?" he asked with a grin.

She smiled appreciatively back. "This is exactly what I had in mind."

"Good," he replied. "I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

She squeezed his hand in hers. "You haven't."

I like the sound of that, he thought. It's like I have a clean slate with her.

He was drawn back from his musings by her voice. "You never did tell me why you came back to the club, you know," she said, taking a bite of her ice cream.

"I told you," he reminded her, "that I came back to apologize."

She nodded. "Yeah, but why did you change your mind about me? You could have apologized and left it at that, but you didn't. You introduced yourself and stayed to talk to me."

"Honestly?" She nodded again and he sighed. "I needed the distraction," he confessed. "I wanted to find another hookup, but I was trying not to do it."

"So I'm your twelve-step program?" she giggled.

"No," he chuckled, munching the last of his cone. "I figured that if I talked to you for a while I'd forget about those other girls."

She knew the answer to her next question, but she asked it anyway, curious about how he would respond. "Did it work?"

He stopped walking and turned to her, looking down into her sparkling eyes. "After five minutes I forgot about everyone else on the planet."

Wow…good answer! Her smile became a bit self-conscious and her eyelids fluttered as she shifted her gaze to the ice cream in her hand, unable to maintain eye contact.

He misread her reaction as one of disinterest. "That sounded like a line," he began. "I'm sorry…"

"Did you mean it?" she asked, the color rising in her cheeks as she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Was I really so captivating that you forgot the world existed?"

"Yes," he told her, his voice firm. "And worth every zombie moment at work the next day."

Her smile brightened. "I'm still sorry about that," she told him. "I shouldn't have kept you out so late."

"I could have gone home, too" he reminded her. "I stayed of my own free will. Besides, you have more than made it up to me today."

"You're having a good time, aren't you?" she observed lightly.

He moved closer to her, letting go of her hand and resting both of his on her hips. "Better than good," he said in a low voice.

"Good," she replied softly, her free hand finding his shoulder. "Me too."

Leaning down, he smiled happily. "Good," he mumbled, feeling her fingers caressing his neck, combing through his hair. His eyes closed slowly and his lips found hers in a gentle kiss, his hands traveling from her hips to the small of her back in an effort to bring her even closer to him. She responded, snaking her other arm around his neck as she kissed him back, melting into his embrace.

The kiss was broken abruptly when Eric jerked away, letting out a small yelp. "What was that?"

Shauna's eyes flew open. "What was what?"

He released her, running a hand over the back of his neck. "It was cold."

Her eyes went wide, suddenly knowing what had happened. I guess I wasn't the only thing that was melting. "I'm so sorry!" she grinned sheepishly.

He followed her gaze to the ice cream cone she held up in front of him, noting the sticky trail flowing down the side of it. Realization swept over him and he laughed. "You dripped on me!"

"I guess that means less kissing and more eating," she winked, licking the offending treat in a vain effort to stop the dripping.

He watched her a moment before interrupting her to kiss her warmly again, then shook his head. "It means less ice cream," he decided.

He read the delight in her expression and a pleased smile settled on his lips. Draping his arm around her, he held her close beside him and the pair resumed their walk down the beach, playfully struggling with the melting ice cream.