~*~Chapter 2~*~

~Katniss~

The element of surprise definitely works in my favor, because Mellark's face right now is priceless. His chiseled jaw is slack, his eyes are azure saucers, and he's at a loss for words. I can't say I've ever seen Mellark speechless. I gloat inwardly for a second, then I flash him a smile.

He finally gets his brain and his mouth to communicate. "Make it a…"

I nod deliberately. "A competition."

A muscle just above that perfect jaw ticks, and he studies me carefully. I can tell he's wary, analyzing the situation carefully, the way he processes evidence. I think he's waiting for me to brush it off as a joke.

"I'm serious, Mellark. You love your little bets so much, let's make a wager, just you and me."

He sets the donut down on his desk and steps towards me. Reflexively I cross my arms and shrink back slightly, but he does that thing he tends to do a lot, where he pays no attention to personal space. He gets near me enough that I can smell the spicy sweetness of the cologne he wears, all cinnamon and musk and something else indescribably masculine that just screams sex.

"I'm listening," he says. The husky tone of his voice makes my stomach somersault, and the air between us suddenly feels electric. Shit, what was I thinking, proposing this?

But there's no backing down now. I swallow and force a smile onto my lips. "One month. We keep track of our felony arrests, and at the end of thirty days, whoever has more is the winner."

His wolfish grin has my gut twisting and spiraling again. "And what are the stakes?"

Given the fact that I most definitely did not think this through, I'm unprepared with an answer to that question. Several possibilities swim through my conscious thought, but one surfaces rapidly, and it extracts a wide grin of my own.

"Your car. If I win, it's mine for an entire week."

I expect him to resist this suggestion, given how possessive he is of his precious vehicle, but his blue eyes gleam, and this close to him I can see the tiny flecks of green and gold that his aquamarine dress shirt draws out in his irises. The same aquamarine dress shirt that his biceps are straining against and has been rolled up just enough to reveal his strong forearms.

"Sounds reasonable. Now…" He places his hands my desk, framing my hips between his arms as he boxes me in. "…What about when I win?"

The way we stand, centimeters apart, it's like my lungs have forgotten how to breathe. My pulse throbs out of control, heat rollicking through my veins like a train that's jumped the tracks. "Do you always have to be so...so…cocky?" I sputter, once my brain and my mouth remember how to communicate.

He licks his lips. "I prefer to call it confidence. So when I win, Detective Everdeen, I'm thinking that my prize will be something that I've been dying to give a spin. You. And you will have no choice but to go out with me when you lose. I want a date."

"What! No fucking way!" I shake my head vehemently and push him away. "No, no, no."

He looks wounded. "C'mon. A bet is a bet. You have to give me something that will truly motivate me."

"And that's me?" I spit, incredulous. "You can't possibly be treading water in the shallow end of the dating pool! I see the way half the women in this city eye-fuck you."

"Eye-fuck, huh? You've noticed?" He sounds pleased with himself. I make a face.

"And the blonde you went home to last night? She won't object to you wagering dates with another woman?"

He scrubs at his chin. "I actually think she'd like you," he replies. "Look, Everdeen, if you're so sure that you do better work alone and will log more arrests than me, my prize should be incidental. I don't know why you're so reluctant to spend one lousy evening with me, but fine, whatever. I'll think of something else that I want." He turns away and walks over to Odair's desk.

I clench my fists and take a deep breath. I'm not sure why the plaintive edge to his voice as he finished his last sentence affects me so, but it does. A sharp lance of pain in my chest has me instantly regretting reacting the way that I did. I still do not understand why he's so hell-bent on going out with me. For all I know, it's part of some sick little bet he's got with Odair, and I'll wind up regretting what I'm about to do even more. But against my better judgment, I find my feet shuffling towards where Mellark stands beside Odair, and I clear my throat to alert them to my presence.

When Mellark faces me, I look right into those crystal clear pools of blue and thrust my hand towards his chest. "You're on."

And I march away, not waiting for his response. At least today, I get the last word.

~Peeta~

Things are quiet, relatively speaking, for a couple of days. Everdeen and I mostly catch up on paperwork and file reports. I flirt with her and she pretends she doesn't hear me. It's business as usual.

I did take it upon myself to wheel an old chalkboard out of storage and position it behind her desk. I drew a line down the middle and wrote each of our names at the top of both columns. She rolled her eyes at me when I left the piece of chalk on the ledge under my side. So far, the board remains empty, not a tally mark on it.

Friday morning I wake up early and nudge the warm, heavy body sleeping on my right.

"Ils?" Her head perks up at her name and her tail thumps against the bed. "Wanna go for a run with Daddy before he goes to work?"

She's off the bed in a blur of yellow fur, and she whines excitedly, her tail now wagging frenetically. I laugh at her enthusiasm, and after I relieve myself and brush my teeth, I throw on a pair of athletic shorts and a sleeveless Under Armour tee, lace up my sneakers, and grab Ilsa's leash.

A beautiful fall day is dawning, and the fresh air fills my lungs as Ilsa and I run. I go through my to-do list in my head, thinking about an interview I need to conduct with an informant later that morning. Her heavy pants punctuate the slap of my sneakers on the pavement.

As we turn into the park, it becomes a little harder to breathe, not because I'm overdoing it, but because I have the air stolen from my lungs at the sight of Everdeen jogging towards me. I'm temporarily stunned, because I've never seen her running in this part of the city before, but then I realize she isn't alone—I recognize her tall, dark-haired running partner. Envy cascades through me like an avalanche, swift moving, and oppressive. I can't even fully appreciate how fucking hot she looks in her running attire because I'm so unnerved by seeing her with Vice Detective Gale Hawthorne.

"Mellark, hey." She comes to a stop in front of me and bounces in place. Her skin is dewy with perspiration, and I lose the fight not to watch an errant bead of sweat roll down her neck, bound for the hollow of her throat—right above her breasts, which I get an eyeful of, compressed by her tight sports bra.

"Everdeen." I acknowledge.

"You remember Gale Hawthorne, right?" she says.

"Of course." I do the polite thing and extend my free hand, but Hawthorne merely nods his head. I was in the police academy with him years ago, and we both started in the 12th precinct together. He transferred to 2 to join their vice squad around the same time Everdeen joined 12 as a rookie. He and I have a mutual disdain for each other that stems from the fact he knows I want her. He seems to think he has a claim on her, though Mason keeps assuring me they're not dating.

Everdeen gives me a smile, and she leans down, putting herself eye-level with Ilsa, who sits obediently at my feet. "I didn't know you had a dog," she says, her smile widening as Ilsa eagerly licks her proffered hand.

"This is Ilsa. The blonde I go home to every night."

She glances up at me, silver eyes wide with understanding. "Oh…oh…" I watch her chest inflate as she takes a deep breath and then exhales, as if she's warring with herself over how to respond to me. "She's beautiful…aren't you?" she coos to Ilsa.

"I told you she'd like you," I say quietly. As Everdeen scratches Ilsa's ears, the dog's eyes close with contentment and her tongue lolls out.

"Catnip, we'd better get going if we're going to make five miles before we both have to get to work."

Everdeen pats Ilsa's head one more time and straightens back up. I steal a peek at her flat, toned stomach, her abdominal muscles on display for me to appreciate. She's in phenomenal shape. Christ, the things I could do to that body…the things that body could do to me…I cough to clear my perverted thoughts, and just in time, because when I look up, her eyes meet mine.

"Catnip?" Gale prompts again, interrupting our visual standoff. I want to gag at the silly pet name. Everdeen is so not a silly pet name woman. I'd never cheapen her unique, sexy name by equating her to a feline narcotic.

"I'd better get going. See you at the station." She bends down to rub Ilsa's muzzle again. "It was nice to meet you, Ilsa." And she and Gale jog off without another word to me. I stare after her, stomach churning. Everdeen does everything alone—she prides herself on it. Furthermore, running is usually a solitary hobby. It sickens me to think there's another reason why she'd be with Gale Hawthorne this early in the morning. Maybe this is one of those 5% times Mason is wrong…

Ilsa chuffs and looks up at me expectantly. I give her leash a gentle tug to urge her to all fours and we finish the rest of our run in companionable silence.

I'm in a thoroughly foul mood by the time I get to work, though I do my best to conceal it. But Mason sees through me, and she sidles up to me at the beverage station, a suspicious look in her hazel eyes.

"What's got your panties in a bunch this morning?"

"Hawthorne," I mutter, reaching for a donut. "Gale Hawthorne." I tear the donut into two pieces and jam one into my mouth. Once I swallow, I tell her about bumping into Everdeen on my run.

"Oh for fuck's sake, how many times do I have to tell you they're just friends? Everdeen doesn't date. At least, she doesn't date him. Never will."

"She always looks different when I see her with him," I say quietly. "There's a smile on her face that only he seems to put there." Again, jealousy curls through my veins, like smoke.

"Everdeen has a lot of baggage, Peeta." My head snaps up, because when Johanna Mason calls you by name, she's channeling that tiny part of her that actually is human. "One day, maybe she'll trust you enough to tell you about it."

"She's told you?" I nearly drop the other half of my donut. I didn't think Everdeen and Mason were all that close, aside from occasionally hanging out outside of work. Hell, I talk to Mason far more than anyone in this precinct, except Odair, and that's only cause he's her partner.

"No, Gale told me once…right after we've fucked."

It's a good thing I'm not presently eating the donut, cause that statement certainly would have made me choke on it.

"Katniss doesn't look at Hawthorne that way," Mason insists. "He's just a good friend of hers. There's more to that story. And besides she never would have been okay with him and me being fuck buddies if she had any designs on him. So relax." She gives me the quickest pat of reassurance on my elbow as she strides off towards Odair.

There's still an unsettled feeling sloshing around in the pit of my stomach, but I finish my donut and prepare my tea, wondering just what kind of baggage a woman like Katniss Everdeen could be carrying.

~Katniss~

Mellark doesn't say a word when he takes a seat at his desk. I continue working, covertly looking up every few seconds to watch him sipping his tea as he reads his screen.

I could say something about our encounter in the park, but I'm not good at small talk, and I definitely got the sense that it irked him to see Gale with me. I know they were never friends. And it's easy enough to spot jealousy in a man. Seeing Mellark and Gale size each other up was like watching two alpha males in a pack, each waiting for any sign of weakness, primed to pounce and tear the other one's jugular wide open.

It had been my idea to meet Gale for a run. I had called him last night to pick his brain on the trafficking case, since the case originated in his jurisdiction. And because Gale has a way of making you feel guilty when he thinks you've neglected him for too long, he reminded me it's been nearly two months since we'd seen each other. I was exhausted though, so I successfully begged off dinner and compromised on a run this morning. It was something we had done together in high school, every morning except Sundays, and I think the throwback to familiarity both placated and pleased him.

I hadn't planned on literally running into Mellark. And I definitely hadn't planned on the little stutter that my heart did at the sight of him jogging towards me, the sun's reddish-orange glow making his hair seem even blonder and his fair skin even more golden. It unnerved me that I found my eyes lingering a little too long on the swells of his biceps and what of his ripped chest was visible. I definitely chastised myself for wishing he would have opted to run without a shirt.

And then I saw the dog.

I've never really been an animal person. I'm still not, for the most part. But during my time in the police academy, I did a ride along with a K-9 Unit. Seeing the officer interact with his German shepherd, who was just about the sweetest dog I could have ever imagined…well, I might have developed a thing for dogs…and maybe for guys who love their dogs.

I push away the knowledge Mellark now fits into that category. But I do plan to exploit his beautiful Labrador a bit, because talking more about his dog seems like it could be a good icebreaker. The arctic front presently hovering over our desks needs to dissipate if we're going to make any progress on developing a plan for our trafficking case.

"Ilsa really is beautiful," I offer. He looks up, and there's no mistaking the quick flicker of pride in his blue eyes.

"Thank you."

"Casablanca fan?"

He narrows his eyes at me, puzzlement briefly claiming his handsome features. Then he smiles once he's absorbed that I've figured out his inspiration. "Uh…yeah, yeah, that's where I got her name." He gazes at me intently for a moment, his stare so deep that I think I stop breathing for a moment. "No one ever makes that connection. And now with that Frozen song everywhere, people just think I have a weird thing for Disney."

"It's not the same, they're two entirely different names."

He shrugs. "It's one syllable…Minor attention to detail. Most people don't bother."

"I guess that's why we do what we do. We pay attention to the little things that other people miss," I reply, and find myself pegged by his stare once more. A fluttering passes through my chest, fleeting, but its effect lingers.

This is why I've kept my distance from him, built that wall up around me, a fortress to protect myself from feeling. Because sitting across from Mellark right now, I am utterly aware of how easy it would be to feel for him. To open up to him…to let him in. And that can't happen. I won't let someone like Mellark in, not when I'd just be a conquest, another wager won. He told me himself that he likes a challenge. I know that's what he really sees in me. As soon as I'd give in, he'd be over me. And I'd be left to sweep up the pieces of my shattered heart.

I clear my throat. "So…ah, the trafficking case from 2."

His countenance shifts and the Mellark who aims cocky grins at me and leaves ego-boosting clippings on my desk returns. "What about it?"

"Well, I, um, spoke with the doorman who phoned in the initial tip," I begin, and then briefly summarize my conversation to get Mellark caught up to speed. "He hasn't seen anything suspicious since that first night a week ago, but now he and the other doorman both have my cell number, and I assured him he can text anytime, even if it's the middle of the night."

Mellark's smile shifts to one of amusement. "Have you ever done a stakeout before, Everdeen?"

I straighten in my chair, anticipating him going all know-it-all on me. "No…"

"The key is being prepared. Have a bag ready that you can grab quickly if an informant, like Darius, in fact clues you in that something is going down. Time is a real bitch in surveillance. You have to act fast and then be prepared to wait for hours. And on more than one occasion."

"I think I can handle it, thanks for your concern."

He chuckles. "I don't doubt it."

I huff softly, feeling there's more to his simple statement, but I don't particularly want to engage him in battle right now. We both fall quiet and settle into our increasingly familiar routine of ignoring each other while we work. No playful ribbing, no uncomfortable stares to rankle me, no accidentally brushing my leg in the shared space under our desks when he claims to be stretching. I work diligently, obtaining two warrants I need for a case I'm desperate to close. I can practically see those tallies going up under my name, and I grin to myself.

I hear Mellark on the phone twice. The first time is definitely work-related, something about coming in for questioning. He assures the caller twice that he or she is not a suspect. He looks satisfied as he hangs up.

When he makes the second call, he drops his voice, and eventually he rises and walks away from his desk. I crane my neck, pretending to look behind me. Mellark paces, and as he talks, he wears a smile that tells me whatever he's discussing is pleasure and not business. I try not to think about whom he might be talking to, and I throw myself back into my work.

After I finish up the paperwork on two arrests I made last week (but don't count towards our bet, because not only are were they made before the wager, but neither is a felony) my stomach growls loudly. I think about retrieving my lunch from the fridge in the break room, but then Mellark reappears at his desk, so I hunch over my files, intently scanning the documents.

"I'm running to Sae's," he announces, jamming his phone in his pocket. "Who wants something?"

Mason and Odair give him their orders. Cresta politely declines, saying she has a salad in the fridge.

"Everdeen, can I buy you lunch?" he ask, shrugging his jacket on.

"No thank you." I'm starving, but I won't do myself any favors spending an hour with him after the licentious thoughts I had earlier this morning.

"No? You really should give yourself a break for a few minutes. You're going to hurt your back sitting like that all day," he continues, leaning forward on my desk. I can smell that cologne he wears, and he's so close I can see that he obviously skipped a shave this morning. Blond hair peppers his cheeks and jawline.

"I'm busy." I sign one paper with a flourish and slide it into a manila folder. "And I brought my lunch."

"Come with me for the company."

"Detective Mellark," I say his name emphatically, enunciating each syllable, "I think you're perfectly capable of driving to a delicatessen, picking up a few sandwiches, and driving back here all by yourself."

He sets his mouth into a firm line and walks away. I feel guilty for being so bitchy, and I contemplate running after him, but my pride wins out over my guilt.

He only returns briefly, to drop off the lunches he grabbed for others. He hands a large piece of carrot cake to Mags, the only person in the office who eats more sweets than he does, and then he's gone again.

At quarter to four, Odair walks past my desk, picks up the chalk, and draws two tally marks under Mellark's name.

I spring from my seat. "What are you doing?"

"Peeta texted me. He and Leeg will be here in a minute."

I stiffen, both because my partner chose to text someone else before me, and because Leeg is on patrol. Routine traffic stops that lead to arrest are not Mellark's territory, and furthermore, most of them are misdemeanors. I plant my hands on my hips and open my mouth to dispute the tallies, but Mellark walks in at that moment, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I march up and meet him halfway.

"What the fuck? You can't count something that happened on Leeg's patrol—"

"Why don't you allow me to give you the facts before you have a conniption, Everdeen," he chides, a patronizing lilt to his voice. "This was my case. Leeg spotted the car I've been looking for and ran the plates for me. Got 'em both for possession of a controlled substance when they came out of the Best Buy. Twenty grams. That's a felony—two of them. They're my arrests. Leeg merely transported them here for me." He moves to saunter past me, but he loiters for a moment and lines up his mouth to my ear. He's so close that I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck and smell the peppermint from his gum. "Looks like I'm on the board first," he whispers.

I suck in a breath and draw up my chest. "Enjoy your lead. It won't last long."

His eyes sparkle mischievously. "That's not usually how I operate."

I fight the blush creeping up my neck, praying it doesn't reach my cheeks before I can flee back to my desk and try not to think about Peeta Mellark's self-professed sexual stamina.

Author's Note-Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites to Chapter 1. As I said, the intention was to have this posted as a one-shot, so I will be posting the chapters fairly quickly. I anticipate there being about 7 of them at this point. We shall see.

Thank you Ro Nordmann for the gorgeous banner that I gave her so little to work with in planning. Ro, you're a genius, and I love you.

And obviously, thanks always go to iLoVeRynMar. I'm beyond giddy that you love this so much. And to Street for always posting my shiz for me and holding my hand. LY guys.