A/N Wow so thank you all for your continued interest in this. For those of you appalled by Veronica's 'toxic' words on the previous chapter, I'm sorry about that. But I had to go there; I had to climb the mountain to see what was on the other side. I won't have an unexplained union between these two. I have to believe it and I want all the dirty laundry aired as much as possible. It's just in my nature. Hopefully I can pull it off. Thank you for all of the wonderful Reviews. I love your thoughts. They keep a writer going. Thank you for the follows and favorites-they are just as exciting to see the interest building by numbers. And thank you to my very important, very patient Beta, Bondopoulos, without whom I would probably still be stuck on chapter 4.

Chapter 9

"I think I ought to go down to the gate and check in with security," Bunk interjected from his spot on the couch, breaking the tension of the showdown between Logan and Veronica.

Having forgotten Bunk was even there, Logan now looked down at his friend, feeling awkward. "Aw, shit, man, Bunk…"

The older man popped to his feet, hands in the air. "Nope, say no more. Seems to me like you two have some things to get out in the open, and I don't need to be here for that. My guys were 'sposed to set up and I needed to check on 'em before lights out anyway. Might as well check all the cameras and make sure the systems up and running, too."

Logan doubted there was that much work to be done, but watched silently while Bunk gathered up some of his things before slinking down the hall. After a few moments, he heard the slam of the front door. Logan turned back to Veronica, who now stood facing the bookshelf.

"I noticed all these pictures this morning," she said, almost conversationally.

Logan sighed heavily. "Yes."

"Carrie with her parents, Carrie at her concerts, Carrie with Susan Knight…pictures of all these people who were in her life, but…none of you." She swung around to face him.

Logan breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. "Yes."

Veronica stepped closer to him, her face set with the same determined look he'd seen her wear when she'd come to the beach house just mornings before. He watched her swallow. "You say she wasn't your lover."

"Right." He answered, suddenly very afraid of what she might see written on his face. "She wasn't."

She took one larger step toward him, close enough now that he could hear her agitation through her abnormal breathing. "The tabloids were saying you've been with her for over two years, Logan."

"Tabloids are known to be wrong."

She nodded slowly, as if weighing her words, Veronica said, rather delicately, "You…hired my dad to find her killer."

"That's true."

"Well," Veronica threw her hands up with a half-shrug, "help me out here, Logan. I've seen the pictures of you with Carrie…I mean, to the world…to everyone…"

"I know what everyone thought. That's what we wanted everyone to think."

"But…" she sputtered, "why?"

Logan swept past her to look at the pictures on the bookshelf, but mostly also to give himself some breathing room. "It was something that worked for both of us. I'm deployed a lot, and she was on tour a lot. It made sense; it worked for us." He risked a glance back at her.

Her face whitened at the word 'us'. "A fake relationship makes sense? The fact that you were both gone all the time helps out the pretense of a loving relationship how? What possible motive could there be for that?"

Logan began to absently rub his injured shoulder. This was the conversation he had been hoping to avoid. He sought to find the right words to explain. "No; being gone all the time meant we only had to be seen together some of the time for people to buy it." He glanced at her. "Besides, why does it even matter to you?"

She folded her arms and gave him a look that he recognized from years ago.

He felt himself quake under her scrutiny but he stood his ground. Logan turned back to face her and stared hard at her, willing her to say it. "What is it that you want me to say, Veronica? You weren't here; it's not like it would have even mattered to you if you had been here. Carrie's dead. Why does any of this matter now?"

**Break**

His words bit into her and she broke their gaze. Why does it matter, Veronica?

She knew why it mattered. It mattered because this was Logan. It mattered because in the past week, Logan had saved her dad's life, been a valuable witness, and found her a safe place to stay. It mattered because she'd been worried that he was rebounding from the loss of the love of his life. It mattered because Veronica had been using Carrie as the reason why Logan was as vulnerable as Veronica felt. It mattered because, without that as a reason, there was more going on here than grief. It mattered.

But instead of just telling him that, she stammered, "It…it matters because, well this…this whole situation happened because of your decision to hire Dad…"

He looked disgusted. "That's your reason?"

Floundering, she replied, "Well…not completely…I mean, if you weren't really with Carrie…who exactly knew that?"

"Just Dick," Logan answered, sounding resigned.

Grasping onto the olive branch he'd just extended, Veronica replied, "Dick. All right. So he is the only person that knows your relationship with Carrie wasn't real?"

He cleared his throat. "Well…and Bunk."

"Bunk." Veronica automatically looked down at the black bag that the older man had left sitting open on the coffee table. "So is that why he thinks we're together?"

"You and me?" Logan asked, sounding surprised. "He said that?"

"He implied it, yes."

"Hm," Logan shrugged. "He thinks too much."

Veronica smiled. "You were right, he did surprise me."

"Twice in one day; that's a record."

She cocked her head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"That Veronica Mars admitted I was right."

A burst of air escaped her. "Oh."

For a moment they stood staring at each other, each lost in thought.

She was the first to recover. Wanting to bring the conversation back to Carrie, she asked, "Okay, so everyone else thinks that you two were really together? Even her parents?"

Logan folded his arms, looking resigned to her questioning.

"Especially her parents," Logan told her, "Scott and Marie were what started the whole thing."

"Carrie was twenty-seven years old; she was still seeking her parents' approval?" Veronica asked skeptically.

"There was a lot about Carrie that will probably always be a mystery to me, Veronica." Logan picked up a picture frame that held the portrait of Carrie with her family. "She suggested the arrangement and I agreed to it; it was a great way for me to pull a fast one on the paparazzi." He set the frame down and looked at her. "I had fun with it."

"But…" Veronica blinked. "You loved her?"

"Sure I loved her. She was my friend."

"I don't understand why—"

"Veronica." Logan's voice came out as a warning. "You don't need to understand." He adjusted the frame before turning to look at her sharply. "She and I were still very close regardless of the fact that the relationship wasn't what it appeared to be."

"So at one time it was real?"

He was silent for a moment. "Have you ever been in a fake relationship?" Stepping closer to her, Logan's eyes burned into hers. "It can be liberating. There's nothing there to fix. Nothing to get mad about; there's no emotion involved at all." He smiled suddenly, but Veronica didn't think it quite reached his eyes. "What's not to love about it?"

She dropped her gaze and stepped back, mumbling, "Sounds lonely."

"Lonely." Logan repeated, his voice full of irony. "Do you have any idea what it is like to have the media wolves at your door your whole life?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't."

"They wouldn't stop sniffing at my door, Veronica. Waiting for the next bad thing to happen is their drug. I was tired of it. Carrie was tired of it. We decided that we might as well bait them our own way in an effort at keeping our real lives private. The more they thought they knew, the better it worked for us. The longer we stayed together, the less they hounded us. We finally became old news. We were…boring."

She felt a pang at how sad he looked. "So you sacrificed yourself to mock the press?"

"No one seemed to notice the sacrifice, so what harm did it do besides keep the press off my back?"

Veronica was still trying to piece it all together, but it still wasn't making sense. "So when you were in Neptune, you traipsed around town with Carrie. Honestly," her voice hinted accusingly, "I don't see how that worked for you at all. Back when I knew you, you would sleep with anything that walked."

"How do you know that I don't still?" he snapped, his expression hardening. He was only a couple of feet away from her now, a look of utter misery reflecting in his face. "Why the hell do you insist on ripping me apart every chance you get?"

So I won't give in and fall for you again. She clamped her mouth shut and stared at him, carefully keeping her face a blank mask. The rise and fall of his chest was rapid and her eyes focused on his throat where his pulse beat. He'd shaved today, she noticed vaguely, inanely wondering where he'd found a razor.

Logan stepped even closer, a frown on his face, his eyes flashing hotly. "You think that I'm still that same reckless boy I was that you left, don't you? You think that there is no room for change, and that I have just stayed the same, biding my time for your return, like I'm some kind of…of…of…Rip Van Winkle! What gives you the right to assume that I am anything like I was when you left me?" Veronica felt her eyes widen at how destroyed he sounded. Logan's emotion was palpable and his voice came out strangled, "Maybe it's because you haven't changed a bit." Suddenly, he reached out and took a hold of her shoulder, his eyes roaming her face. "But damn if it still doesn't matter to me." Without any more warning than that, Logan pulled her into him and kissed her.

She was caught completely off-guard. She tried to object as he dipped toward her, but the insistent way his mouth closed over hers made her quickly forget her protest. Her body shamelessly responded to his body pushing into hers and she lost all thought. The only thing she sensed was how his mouth was devouring hers and how her breasts pressed into his chest deliciously. Her fingers found his hard and threaded themselves into the strands on their own accord. A moan emitted from deep inside her throat when his tongue pushed past her lips and into the recesses of her mouth. Mindlessly, she opened herself up to him. His fingers began kneading their way down the back of her neck and she pulled him even closer into her.

There were no more thoughts and for Veronica, all sound and movement ceased to exist except for what was happening between them in that moment. She felt hungry for his touch; years of starvation was the only possible explanation for the way her body eagerly arched into his and how her hands began to freely roam.

All at once, Logan broke their contact. He reached up and wrenched her hands from out of his hair before he pushed her away from him. He was breathing heavily. Veronica could see his pulse beating rapidly at the base of his throat, which seemed to match the rhythm of her own. Cautiously, she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Damn it," he said, placing his good hand on his hip and his other he tightly against his chest, his eyes burning into her as he took a deep, steadying breath. "I must be a masochist."

She didn't know what to say. Logan abruptly backed away from her and moved toward the doorway, his eyes frozen on her the entire time. At last he turned and gave her one last long look over his shoulder before he disappeared down the hall.

She stood alone in the living room for an undetermined amount of time, vacantly staring after him. Her body was pulsating with the awareness that he had just awoken inside her. Deep in her belly, there was a throbbing of desire that was now humming to life.

Veronica rubbed her neck as if to scrub his touch from her and erase the memory of the past few moments. But it wouldn't be shaken. He'd scorched her with his kiss; all she could taste was Logan. Even the sandalwood scent that was his was on her now.

**Break**

Well, so much for self-control, Logan thought bitterly as he stomped his way outside to find Bunk. She'd pushed him to the edge and he'd pushed back.

His whole body was blazing with desire. Her mouth had been soft and pliant and she'd seemed to be a willing participant; eager almost. The nine plus years since he'd felt her mouth on his had just melted away in that moment and it had taken every ounce of will power that he possessed to pull away from her.

Veronica knew exactly how to crush him. She'd just implied that he couldn't keep his pants zipped when he'd been with her in college and it couldn't have been further from the truth. He'd been cheated on before; he'd watched Aaron cheat on his mother for years. He simply did not believe in cheating.

With Carrie, there had been an understanding. They were not really in a relationship; he could have girlfriends and one-night stands as he saw fit. Neither of them cared about the other's sexual conquests. But if he and Carrie had been the real thing, he would have been one hundred percent faithful to her.

He saw Bunk just ahead of him at the front gate. He was talking with some of the security crew who had flown in with him. Logan was glad that he and Veronica were safe within the gates; he didn't have to worry about outside forces right now. Worrying about staying away from Veronica was all than he could handle at the moment.

***Break***

Mac walked out to the dance floor with Dick and Wallace beside her. She was glad that none of the faces in the crowd were familiar. It would limit any speculation and keep rumors from circulating around town.

"Why don't you relax a little and party?" Dick offered in her ear, "You've done all you can tonight; Ronnie won't mind."

Mac nervously ran a hand along the front of her dress; covertly feeling for the little bug that Dick had given back to her. She'd stuffed it in her bra before they'd left the office, turning away from Dick's knowing smirk so he couldn't watch her as she did so. "I have a lot to do yet."

"Pshaw," Dick flicked her argument away, "Nothing that can't wait. Seriously, Mackie, it's an open bar. It's Saturday night, let down your hair! It would be good for you!"

Wallace gave her a grin and shrugged. "You know how people talk in this town. If we just hang out and keep our ears open, we might learn something out that would help."

That argument won out and Mac relented. To Dick, she said, "Fine. One drink."

Dick led the way to the bar and got them each a drink of their choosing. Despite the crowd, the bartender served them quickly. Within minutes, a group of women distracted Wallace, and Mac found herself left alone with Dick.

She nursed her drink slowly, wanting to keep a clear head.

"You know, you really look hot tonight," Dick said around a swig of his beer.

Mac choked. She carefully set the drink down on the supplied coaster and then straightened the glass just so, in an attempt to buy herself some time. Her mind skittered to another time, years before, when she'd run into Dick at the Neptune Grand.

**Flashback***

She was drunk. The music around her was pumping loudly into her ears and she felt dizzy.

Mac looked around the room, wishing she hadn't come here. It was a mistake, but she had come with Parker who had practically dragged her along. The girl's pleading had quickly cracked Mac's walls, and now here she was. Parker went off with some frat boy, leaving Mac alone, as per the usual. And of course, Mac had no other ride and no keys to Parker's car.

Damn.

She looked around the room and saw very few people she knew. This was Dick Casablancas' penthouse—Logan had left six or so months before, but Dick had yet to grow up and move into a more acceptable living space. Rumor had it that Dick Senior had rented the place out for Dick Junior for the rest of the semester and that Dick Junior was taking full advantage.

Not that it mattered to Mac in the slightest. Dick Senior had been gone for too long as it was, and look what had happened to his sons. One was a murdering dead man, the other a full-blown disaster of a boy.

Thinking of Dick must have conjured him up; she saw him standing near the kegs, laughing hard at something that a group of half-dressed sorority girls were telling him. Mac watched as he picked up the 'party-pig' and a girl leaned over him for a drink out of the hose.

Feeling unexpectedly nauseated, Mac bolted to a side door in search of the bathroom. She found herself in one of the bedrooms and rushed through it to the door that led to the actual bathroom. Relieved to have found it in time, she shut the door firmly before leaning against it, grateful for the cool metal against her back. It cleared her queasy stomach. She locked the door and stepped to the sink to splash water over her face. For a moment she stared at her reflection, wondering just what the hell she was doing here.

After a few minutes, Mac stepped back out into the large bedroom. The bed looked inviting and clean; maybe if she lay down for a while it would ease her stomach. Perhaps Parker would be ready to leave by then.

The bed was too inviting to spend another moment contemplating on it. She pulled back the covers and climbed in. There was a very male scent on the pillows and she inhaled it deeply. It smelled so welcoming that Mac curled up on her side and pulled one of the pillows into her; wrapping her arms around it as she burrowed her head more deeply into the other.

The music beat through the walls for quite a while. Mac dozed, falling in and out of sleep for a while until finally she was out.

The jostling of the bed woke her. Keeping her eyes shut tight, Mac fought the disorienting array of confusion. She heard a deep male sigh and the bed still for a moment.

After a moment, she heard a whisper, "Mac?"

It was Dick. Embarrassment coursed through her and all she could think to do was to continue feigning sleep. Mac tried her best to keep her breathing even.

She felt his fingers gently touch her arm. "Hey, Mac?"

Eventually, he gave up trying to rouse her. But instead of leaving her there, Mac felt the bed jostle more and she realized with dismay that he'd pulled the covers back and was climbing in next to her. She half-expected him to try something; in fact, Mac was already conjuring a plan of attack in case he tried Her limbs were free and she could easily get a swift kick to his groin if she had to; her nails were plenty long and she would gladly bite him. Randomly, she recalled an article she'd read that said to pee on your attacker. Surely she could muster up some urine.

How did she get herself into these situations?

Just as Dick got comfortable and Mac was weighing the wisdom of getting away from him, she heard him say softly, "Mac, I wish you were awake, but I guess you wouldn't probably listen if you were, so maybe if I tell you now at least you can't interrupt me."

She stilled when he turned his body to his side and she felt his breath hot on her ear.

"It's my fault; what Cassidy became is all my fault. It's my fault he did all that shit and I hate that he did what he did to you." His hand touched her arm and again, Mac started calculating the right moment to go all Kung-Fu on him. Suddenly though, he dropped his hand and the bed creaked as he turned away from her and settled on his back. "Not that you give a damn anyway, but hell."

The tortured crack in his voice tugged at her heart, and before she knew what she was doing, Mac rolled over to face him.

His eyes connected with hers, wide with surprise that she wasn't asleep. She smiled at him; more tenderly than she had ever remembered looking at him before.

They lay staring at each other. Mac dimly realized that the music had stopped and that there was only silence save for the sound of their breathing.

The look in his eyes conveyed something familiar; something she recognized. She reached up to trace his jawbone, surprised by her sudden need to touch him. She brushed a strand of his hair from his face and he stiffened, his eyes growing wider when she tucked it behind his ear. He froze completely when Mac tipped her mouth up to touch his.

Her brain felt fuzzy from the alcohol and Dick tasted like the beer he'd been drinking earlier; both of those things emboldened her. She traced his lips with her tongue and pressed her body into his.

Dick's hand came to rest on the swell of her hip as she continued her ministrations to his mouth. She pulled back to look at him; he still looked stunned and completely at a loss for words.

She didn't need or want words. She just needed him, right now, and words would just get in the way. Not letting common sense talk her out of it, Mac sat up and leaned over him, resting on her outstretched hand. She ran her fingers down the length of his button-down shirt, working each button loose as she went.

A hand clasped over hers to still it. When she met his questioning stare, Mac answered by pulling herself free of his hold and tugging at his shirt lapels in an attempt to get it off of him. He shrugged out of it, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on hers, slowly and erotically pulling it off of himself before discarding the undershirt he wore as well.

Her skirt had wended its way up her hips and his fingers were creeping even further under the fabric; Mac smiled her encouragement and felt them slide up even more, touching the edge of her panties. His breathing hitched higher when she abruptly straddled him. The movement made her skirt ride up even higher, and his hands rounded her ass and pushed her down onto the fly of his jeans.

Murmuring her approval, Mac ran both hands up and down his now bare chest and stopped at a nipple to rub and tease him there. The hiss through his teeth made her smile and she bent to place a kiss at the hollow of his neck. His hands were suddenly grappling at the hem of her shirt, roaming underneath to the clasp of her bra. She felt him unsnap it and his hands were out of her shirt and then up her sleeves, pulling at the straps and suddenly she was completely free of the undergarment. Then his fingers were at her breasts, pulling and twisting deliciously, proving his deftness at the art of pleasure. She arched into his hands; her own breathing coming out in short bursts.

Together they tugged her shirt off of her. Dick sat up and wrapped his arms around her, her bare breasts tingling against his chest; it felt unreal and wonderful and Mac reveled in it. She let herself get lost in how he was ravaging her body; his fingers and his mouth teasing, making her crazy.

Her own fingers found the button of his jeans and she began pulling wildly at it. His fingers pushed hers away and he freed himself. In desperation, Mac pushed his hands aside and encircled the length of him with her fingers, feathering the tip before pumping her hand down. His hips pushed up in eager response and he grabbed her hips to pull her down onto the bed so that he was kneeling between her legs, staring down at her. Taking the initiative, Mac wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him down hard with them. He lost his balance but caught himself inches from her face, chest heaving, eyes dilated to black orbs of utter desire.

"You're so fucking hot, Mac," he growled above her.

She felt his erection and she bucked up, frantically seeking contact. She was surprised when he pulled back and looked down at her again. Mac murmured her desperation, struggling beneath him in search of the missing heat of his body.

He sat back and ran his hands lightly up the sides of her thighs; she felt his fingers on the edges of her panties again and then dip past the soft fabric. Fingertips, cool and light, feathered her soft center and she reared against them. It wasn't quite what she was searching for but it was enough for now and she cried out blindly.

Dick leaned down and kissed her mouth. He nudged her legs so that they wrapped around him again. She felt him against her, hard and ready. He pulled his mouth from hers and looked in her eyes, and she saw a look of uncertainty there.

They were almost completely naked now; the only barrier between them was the scrap of fabric that was her skirt and the thong that he'd already pushed aside. Mac pushed her hips closer into him. Roughly she ordered him, "Do it."

At her command, Dick thrust himself into her, and both of them sucked in satisfied breaths of air; the sensation of him filling her caused her to convulse in small spasms beginning a build of needed release. The rhythm of each thrust made Mac build and build and all at once, she crashed. Her moans became screams and Dick pushed his mouth over hers, sucking the sound of her into him until suddenly he stilled, his eyes wide as he exploded inside her. She pulled him closer into her and he collapsed over her, his heart beating loudly in her ear.

They lay there together the rest of the night, with no words between them. Mac rolled away from him but he didn't take the hint; he scooped her into his arms and nestled her there comfortably.

**END FLASHBACK**

When Mac woke up that next morning in Dick's bed, she had been mortified. Her raging headache had only confirmed her suspicions that she'd initiated sex with Dick in a weak moment induced by alcohol and exhaustion. Because of that, Mac had just become another notch on his bed post.

If he even remembered. He'd been completely passed out when she'd left and she'd had no idea if he'd been too drunk to remember that she'd even been there at all. Which was completely fine by her. The less he remembered about it the better off they both were.

She hadn't seen much of Dick after that. Only twice, in fact. Both were times that she'd taken her brother into Dick's surf shop for gear. Ryan had been adamant that Water Dog was the only place around to get top-notch gear, and therefore would only shop there. And, of course, Dick had been at the counter, so Mac had scurried around, trying her best to not be noticed and then she'd sneaked her way out the front door while Dick helped Ryan pick out a wet suit.

The times she'd gotten together with Logan over the years had been over dinner and safely away from Dick and any thought of him. She'd never admitted to anyone what had happened that night at Dick's penthouse.

And now, years later, she was sitting at a bar with him. She blinked at that realization and spied the tall blond over her glass.

Obviously clueless of the direction of her thoughts, Dick stood beside her took another long pull of his beer before he set it down. He grinned over at her. "Dance with me?"

The request surprised her. She was even more surprised when he grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the dance floor with him.

The music was loud and thumped so hard that Mac could feel the floor vibrating through her shoes and up her legs. Dick's fingers were curled around hers and when he reached the middle of the floor, he turned to her and began dancing wildly to the beat. People around them gave them a wide berth.

"Come on, Mackie!" Dick yelled over the music. "Live a little! Enjoy yourself for once."

That's it, its official, Mac thought, watching him; there is no way he remembers. She relaxed enough to dance with him; careful to not touch or be touched. Then the song was suddenly over, slowing abruptly into a piano intro and a sultry voice began singing about three a.m. and sheets being untucked. Before she knew what was happening, Dick grabbed her again and began swaying slowly, his lower body pressed provocatively into hers.

The song had a sexy beat and Mac couldn't help the way her body responded to it and to Dick's body against hers. The room was warm and Dick smelled a distinct mixture of male and alcohol. She swayed with the music and laughed lightly when he swung her out and twirled her on one arm, pulling her tightly back into him. She looked up into his blue eyes and he looked down at her at the same time. All at once, Mac thought she saw a flicker of recognition. Dick suddenly stood her upright and set her away from him, breathing hard as he blinked at her, looking slightly confused.

The noise around them fell away as they stared at one another. Mac folded her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold under his scrutinizing stare. She turned away from him and started to retreat off the dance floor, wending her way through the swarm of sweaty bodies and toward the bar in search of Wallace. She needed to get out of here and if she couldn't find Wallace to tell him, to hell with it. She had her own ride; she could make her excuses tomorrow.

"Mac!" Dick's voice carried over the crowd. She hazarded a glance back and saw him attempting to follow after her.

Wallace was not at the bar. Not pausing, Mac turned and headed directly for the exit. Anything that hadn't been taken care of tonight could wait until morning. She pushed her way through the door and out into the night, heading directly to where she'd parked her car.

She had only just reached the parking lot when she heard Dick behind her, calling, "Hey, Mac! Wait up!"

Her key in her hand, Mac spotted her car and made a beeline for it, ignoring Dick entirely. She hit the 'unlock' button on her key fob and the car's headlights flashed in response. She had just reached out to pull the door's handle when Dick's hand came down onto her shoulder.

She paused and looked back at him. He wore a rare serious expression on his abnormally pale face, his eyes wide. He dropped his hand and stood there looking awkward. She waited expectantly.

"Uh…" Dick said, running his fingers through his hair before stuffing both hands into his pockets. "So we're gonna talk after my next meeting with Sean?"

Mac stared blankly at him. "Yeah, isn't that what we decided? I have to get the bug back to the lab or they might notice its missing. So take good notes."

He grinned and feigned writing on an invisible notebook. "Take. Good. Notes. Check."

She stifled a laugh at his goofy demeanor. There was just something about the guy.

He dropped his hands again and his grin faded into a flat line. "Seriously, though, what the fuck just happened back there?"

Shivering, Mac chafed at her arms. Dick shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around her, smiling at her stunned silence. "Can't have the lady cold, now, can I?" When he seemed satisfied, Dick stood back and looked back down at her. "You gonna answer my question?"

Frak, no, she wasn't going to.

When she saw that Dick had no intention of relenting, Mac cleared her throat and stammered, "I…uh..well, you know, it's late and I have a long day tomorrow.."

"I call bullshit."

Her eyes shot up to his in shock. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, Mackie," Dick said, stepping closer to her. Mac stepped back and hit the door of her car, and was surprised when Dick pushed her more gently into it. "You felt it, too. I saw it."

"Saw what?" she denied weakly, tipping her face up to better see him.

His gaze was hot. He propped his hands on the car door, one on each side of her head, effectively pinning her there while he inspected her. Not saying anything, Dick tilted his head this way and that, slowly. Watching him made Mac's heart accelerate and she felt a slow burn of awareness sputtering awake in her belly.

She swallowed. "What are you doing?"

A smile played on Dick's lips and suddenly, Mac wanted to feel them on her. She bit her lip, wondering what Dick was thinking.

His eyes zeroed in on her mouth and she was almost sure he was going to kiss her; she closed her eyes, and tilted her head and waited.

"Mac!"

The moment was broken and Dick dropped his hands and stepped away from her. She opened her eyes and looked to where Wallace was jogging across the parking lot toward them.

"Mac! I wanted to catch up with you before you left!" Wallace's footsteps faltered as he neared the car. He looked questioningly between the two of them and Mac saw the two of them through Wallace's eyes: Dick looking slightly disheveled and Mac wearing his jacket. "Uh...well maybe you're all right."

"No, it's fine, Wallace. Dick just wanted to finalize the plan. We're all set," Mac said quickly, shrugging off the jacket and handing back to Dick. "It's been a long night, though. I have to get home. I've got a lot I have to do tomorrow."

"Yeah, thanks, Wally, I think I got her safety covered here," Dick said, opening the car door and then moving aside to let Mac get in. "She's making a safe getaway tonight."

"I'll call you, Mac, in the morning?" Wallace asked, still watching warily.

As she climbed into her car, Mac called out an affirmative and Wallace held a hand up in goodnight. Just as she went to pull the car door closed, Dick leaned over it, his arm hung casually on the window frame. "You know this isn't over, Mackie." He looked pointedly at her mouth and drew his tongue across his lips slowly. "Deny it all ya want, but you can't get away so easily." With that, he stood up and slammed the door shut.

On autopilot, Mac started up her car and put it into drive, with her heart in her throat and her hands shaking from how hard her heart was pumping.

She watched from her rear view mirror as both Wallace and Dick tracked her car as she drove out of the parking lot.

A/N: Thank you for reading. If you have time, I always welcome your review. Thanks!