A/N: I continue to appreciate all your great reviews and kind words on Twitter. Things start to simultaneously cool down and heat up in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4

The employee break room in the downtown Denver post office had no windows, so without electricity, Oliver and Shane were immediately plunged into darkness.

"Oh dear," said Oliver, as Shane fumbled into her dress pocket for her phone.

She fished it out and found the flashlight app, illuminating the room. "I don't want to drain my phone battery, so we need to find another source of light."

They left their vending machine dinner and ventured back down the hall. It was considerably lighter out there, but the days were short in February, and they were rapidly losing the daylight coming in through the skylights. Among the shelves and shelves of undeliverable parcel contents set for auction, they went to the plentiful candle section. Shane knew right away where the battery operated ones were, and they each grabbed an armful. The light was fading now in the DLO, and they turned on the switches on the candles and set a few around the office.

Oliver disappeared for a few moments more, taking a flashlight with him from his desk. He returned with someone's lost sleeping bag, tightly rolled, still in its packaging. He'd gone back to the auction shelves.

"It's going to get cold soon without heat," he explained, putting on his suitcoat, "what with the wind and the dropping temperatures. We should be prepared. It will likely be more comfortable in the break room, since there are no windows in there and there's a uh, couch." He awkwardly cleared his throat.

"You're probably right." It suddenly occurred to Shane that, not only would they be spending the night alone together in the DLO, they would have to find a way to keep warm. Together. The thought made her shiver for an entirely different reason. She felt another kind of tension replacing the anger that had been with them the past couple days. "Well, let's grab the rest of these candles and go back there to finish our dinner."

"Yes, ahem…good idea."

They retrieved their overcoats and went back down the hall again, Shane leaving a trail of candles and Oliver carrying the sleeping bag. She set down a couple of the lights on the break room table, and another on the kitchenette counter. The last candle she put in the restroom just off the breakroom, and when she came back out, she surveyed the artificially flickering light surrounding them. It almost looked romantic, she thought, smiling to herself.

"Oh, I also brought these," Oliver said, and brought out a deck of UNO cards from his trouser pocket. Shane laughed. "I haven't played this since college!"

"I thought it would be something to pass the time. I've seen people play it before, but I'm normally not a cards person. It always looked to me like a version of Crazy 8, a game my grandmother would play with me when I was a boy."

"Yes, that's right. It's easy. I'll show you after we eat, but I must warn you, I can be very competitive."

Oliver smirked. "Yes, Ms. McInerney, I'm aware."

They finished their makeshift dinner in relative silence, both of them sensing how, without the occasional blast of warmth from the heater, the room was gradually beginning to cool. Shane cleared off the table and slipped on her coat, then joined him again. He was shuffling the UNO deck.

She quickly explained the rules, pointing out the different cards that directed a player to draw two cards or reverse the turn back to the other person. She dealt each of them seven cards, and the game was on.

Shane couldn't remember having had so much fun in a long while. Despite their situation, the candlelight and the fast pace of the game seemed to have brought down both their defenses, and they relaxed into the play, laughing and mock-groaning and ribbing each other. They were equally matched, even though Oliver was a beginner and Shane very rusty, and after two hours, they were tied two games each.

Shane was on the cusp of breaking the tie in an epic final game that had lasted nearly an hour, when Oliver suddenly played his last card. "UNO!" he announced victoriously. Obviously, he'd been hiding the fact that he had only one card remaining in his hand.

"What? Oliver, you have to say UNO when you only have one card left, before you put it down! I told you that already. Now you have to draw two cards as a penalty."

"You most certainly did not, Ms. McInerney. I have won fair and square, and your inventing this…arbitrary rule because I broke the tie—"
"I didn't invent that rule. Just look at the rule insert—"

He captured her hand and held it in his so she couldn't move to prove she was right. When she looked in surprise from their hands up to his eyes, she saw in the candlelight that his were sparkling with merry mischief, and she froze.

"Why, Oliver O'Toole; were you attempting to cheat so I would lose the game?"

"Why, Shane McInerney," he said, dryly mocking her, "does cheating at cards seem part of my character?"

She regarded him a moment, her own eyes tinged with amusement, and she keenly felt the heat of his hand, the frisson of awareness at his firm hold on her. Her voice dropped to a low, mysterious tone. "UNO brings out a person's true nature. You, my friend, are a closet card sharp. I wonder…do you have other cards hidden up your sleeves?"

She reached out her free hand to slip under the cuff of his suit coat, felt the light smattering of the hair on his wrist. Her eyes still holding his, she couldn't help but caress him. Suddenly, the humor left their expressions, and two sets of eyes darkened in mutual appreciation. Their innocent touches no longer felt so innocent, despite the perfectly modest places they were touching.

It took everything in him not to bring her hand up to his lips, or, better yet, pull her chair closer to his and kiss her. He must have signaled something to her with his eyes, because for once, it was Shane who gently pulled away. Even in the candlelight, he could see how flushed her cheeks were, and wondered if his looked the same.

"Uh, no hidden cards there," she announced with an awkward smile.

She rose then and excused herself before going into the restroom. Oliver looked down at his hands, still tingling from her touch, then he slowly began to gather the cards together and stack them neatly before returning them to their little box. Shane was still in the restroom, and, feeling hyped up with nervous energy, he decided he needed to take a walk.

The halls of the empty building were noticeably cooler, given that the heat had been off now for a few hours. He ventured out into the main lobby of the post office, admiring the rows of neat metal boxes embedded in the walls, etched with their sequentially arranged PO box numbers. It was soothing to him, this order of things. He stood at the glass doors, looking out into the freezing darkness. From what he could discern, the trees nearest the building were weighted down by ice, and he feared there would be considerable damage from the storm when things thawed. There were no moving cars on the street, so perhaps people had wised up and stayed off them, safely home by their fireplaces or furnaces. He sighed and walked back through the employee entrance, locking the door again behind him.

Oliver didn't quite know what to do with his feelings for Shane, for, while he'd admitted to himself he was in love with her, what was he to do about it? He sensed they shared a strong physical attraction, but that was what he'd had with Holly, and that certainly hadn't worked out. He had more in common with Shane, thought of her as a friend as well as a prospective partner, which was a major difference from his incompatibility issues with his ex-wife. Perhaps being thrown together alone like this was a sign from God, and he offered up a silent prayer for His guidance.

"Oliver?" came Shane's rather agitated call from somewhere in the dark depths of the silent building.

"I'm here," he called back. He went in the direction of her voice and found her at the entrance of the DLO. She seemed relieved to see him.

"I've been calling you…it's pretty creepy in here with the electricity off."

Oliver smiled. "Sorry. I was just taking a turn around the building. My legs had gone numb from sitting for so long in order to beat you at cards."

He was pleased when the spark reignited in her eyes. "You mean, in order to cheat me at cards."

"Come now, Ms. McInerney, sore loser doesn't become you."

They walked by unspoken agreement back toward the break room, the artificial candles lighting their way. "If I had my Scrabble game here, you wouldn't know what hit you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'd be happy to take you up on that challenge sometime. In the meantime, I could get my chess board from the office…"

"No thanks. That game is too tedious."

He grinned. "The art of thinking several moves ahead can be difficult for some. It takes hours of dedicated practice."

"You think I don't know how to plan ahead?" she asked in annoyance as they made their way back inside the break room.

"I was merely talking about chess, Ms. McInerney, not about life. In that regard, I wouldn't dare presume…"

Shane wisely dropped that topic and walked over to the couch. She sat down with a sigh, gathering her coat more tightly around her. "I wish we at least had a way of making coffee," she lamented. "It's sure starting to get chilly in here."

"Yes, it is. Let me get that sleeping bag."

He found the item and took it out of its nylon case, then unrolled it before unzipping the sides. It opened up to be a good sized comforter. He brought it to her and spread it over her on the couch. She gratefully snuggled beneath it, while Oliver found his overcoat and put it on.

"I saw some granola bars in a cabinet here if you're still hungry," he announced. "It's too bad we can't purchase anything more from the vending machines with the electricity off."

"That's okay; I still have my Hershey bar to finish." She took it from her coat pocket and bit off a creamy square, letting it slowly melt in her mouth. "I'm sure it's only dropped ten degrees in here, but it feels like more." She shivered for emphasis.

"Part of it is probably just psychological. You expect it to become cold, and so you are."

"Touch my nose, Oliver, and you'll see it's not all in my head. And I just saw you put on your coat…"

"I didn't say I wasn't affected as well. We should think of something more to distract us, or you could try to get some sleep."

She pressed a button on her smart watch and glanced at the time. "It's only eight-thirty; I'm not sleepy."

Shane might have suggested playing games on her tablet, but knew Oliver wouldn't care to kill time with technology. It was too bad she hadn't downloaded some movies onto it lately. She looked up to see he was still standing.

"Join me on the couch, Oliver. We can share the sleeping bag."

He visibly stiffened, even though her voice was practical, with no hint of seduction. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Oh, come on. No one is here, and it really is much more comfortable than those cold metal chairs."

"I'm quite all right, Ms. McInerney." He belted his coat and made a show of sitting in the uncomfortable metal chairs.

She sighed, and suddenly a thought occurred to her, a memory from some time ago.

"This reminds you of Holly, doesn't it?"

His eyes flew open wide. "What?"

"How you first met. It was in a snowstorm, wasn't it? And you had to huddle together to keep warm."

He swallowed and was momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you mean," he hedged.

Shane wasn't about to throw Rita under the bus for telling her first, but since that day, right before Holly's return, she had heard the tale from other sources (namely Hazel). Apparently Holly was so proud of her dramatic first meeting with her husband, that she'd shared the story every time she came to see Oliver at the DLO, or at his other work gatherings, so it wasn't like it was a secret. Oliver's feelings on the matter, however, well that was something else.

Shane wasn't one to give up. "Isn't that what happened? There was a storm and you rescued her from her car before it went over a cliff, then kept her warm in your car until you could be rescued the next day?"

"I can't believe you listen to gossip, Ms. McInerney."

"So it wasn't true?"

He hesitated, then met her eyes and sighed. "Yes, it was true."

"Then I'm right; being here, trapped with me in a storm reminds you of Holly."

"While our current situation has vague similarities to that long ago night, absolutely nothing about you reminds me of Holly."

She was genuinely relieved to hear that. "Then sit with me, Oliver," she replied softly.

She met his eyes and held them in the flickering light, daring him, and her heart responded in its usual way to their connection. She would have thought she'd be used to it by now. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, could sense his dilemma, his desire to keep to keep things professional warring with his desire to be near her. Accepting the challenge, he joined her on the couch, but didn't move to share the sleeping bag.

Well, she thought, that was a start. He sat against the back of the couch, stretching out his long legs, closing his eyes in surrender to the upgrade in comfort. They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts and insecurities. Finally, Oliver turned his head to look at her.

"What I had with Holly wasn't really love; I've come to realize that now," he said, his rich voice filling the small room. "It was purely physical, and we both paid for our…overzealousness much later. I admit, that night, I was proud someone so lovely thought of me as a hero. I preened under her attention, flattered by it. I hadn't been in a relationship for some time, and I suppose I was lonely. My own romantic ideas about love led me down the garden path, leaving me with deep regrets and a failed marriage. I find I don't want to make those same mistakes again." Not with you, was his unspoken conclusion.

"But I'm nothing like Holly, as you said. Were we to go on another date, we might be able to avoid what happened with her."

"Are you forgetting our first date, or whatever that disaster could be termed?" He smiled wryly.

"No. But wouldn't you say it's sort of what they say about a play? A bad dress rehearsal portends a great opening night?"

He laughed. "By that reasoning, our next date will be monumental."

"Our next date, Mr. O'Toole?"

His lips quirked as he realized her subtle manipulation. Funny thing, he didn't feel manipulated when he answered: "Yes, Ms. McInerney, I would like to try again, if you will do me the honor of a second chance."

She reached her hand out from beneath the makeshift blanket, touching him on the coat sleeve. "Yes, I would like that, if we are officially calling it a date."

"It's definitely a date." And he took her hand again, squeezing it gently. They continued holding hands, smiles on their faces as they contemplated putting that terrible first date behind them.

"Well now that that's settled, I would suggest we play something like Twenty Questions, but I believe I already owe you three answers."

"Is that so? And are you truly ready to answer these deep, personal questions I've devised? Keep in mind, I was quite miffed with you when I wrote them."

Her hand tensed in his, and no doubt she was imagining all manner of uncomfortable queries to come. Indeed, Oliver felt the weight of the napkin inside his inside breast pocket, filled with questions he and his dad had written the day before, some of which could quite possibly ruin the new détente between them.

"Okay," she said bravely. "Fire away."

He looked at her beside him, her blonde hair flowing to her shoulders in soft curls, her cheeks rosy, her hand now slightly damp beneath his, her face a mask of courage.

And then, Oliver showed mercy.

"Question number one," he began loftily, "what is…your favorite color?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not at all. And I must remind you, you are bound by our wager to answer truthfully."

"Well, yellow."

"Noted. Thank you. Question number two: where were you born?"

She paused, befuddled and amused at these softball questions. "Washington, DC."

He felt her hand relax in his, at the same time that Oliver's grew tense, having decided to ask one question from his actual list. It had been the last question that he'd added, alone, without his father's help.

His thumb moved over her knuckles, and he took a deep breath, saying a simple prayer in his head before he could lose his nerve. His words came out then, a bit shaky at first, then deep with feeling.

"Question number three, Ms. McInerney. Shane."

She felt the change in the air, the gravity of the moment, and braced herself before turning her entire body toward him, her heart in her throat.

"Shane…may I kiss you?"

"Yes," she responded immediately. She didn't even have to think.

He gave her a fleeting smile at her quick response, and slid closer to her, his free hand going up to her cheek before gliding into the hair above her ear. Her eyes glittered at him in the shadows, before her lids drooped heavily as she anticipated his next move. He held his breath now, while he heard hers coming fast and breathy as it passed through her gently parted lips. Slowly, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

Neither of them were prepared for the jolt of electricity that might have re-lit all of Denver, and Oliver felt his body fill with light. She tasted sweetly of chocolate and a deeper richness all her own; he immediately craved more. Entreating entry, he lightly touched her lips with his tongue. She opened for him, and Oliver delved deeper, his mind awhirl, his senses overloaded with her heavenly smell, her taste, the sensual sounds of pleasure emanating from her throat. He smiled briefly against her lips as he indeed felt the coldness of her nose against his cheek. Shane's hand wandered up his arm to rest on the back of his neck, her fingers just brushing his hairline as they sank mindlessly into the kiss.

For long moments they held each other, exploring with lips and tongues, hands wildly tangling in flaxen hair or caressing lightly stubbled cheeks. Want of air was the only thing that could have pulled them apart in that moment, and he moved his lips to her cheek, his breath sharp and ragged in her ear.

"Shane," he whispered in wonder, "my beautiful, adorable Shane."

A/N: One more chapter to come before we meet back up with the events of "Higher Ground." Thanks for reading!

PS: It took everything in me not to quote from Monty Python and The Holy Grail and make one of Oliver's questions: "What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?" Haha. I hope you appreciate my restraint. More soon.