A/N: Here we are at last to the conclusion of this little romp. I hope you've enjoyed it; I've certainly enjoyed the kind, encouraging feedback.

Chapter 5: Conclusion

"Oliver," breathed Shane, her blood still buzzing with the excitement of his kisses. While he was busy nuzzling into her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair, Shane's hands moved to open the belt of his overcoat and slip them inside. She had this intense desire to touch him, to get closer still. She found his shirt beneath his open suitcoat, her fingertips sliding up the finely tailored cotton and up over his chest. She could actually feel the fast pounding of his heart beneath her hand, echoing the rhythm of her own. She explored his silk tie up to the knot at his throat, where she began loosening it.

"Shane," he said cautiously, his hands moving to still hers.

She paused and looked into his eyes; even in the relative darkness, she was able to see the desire there mixed with the caution.

"I—I just want to be closer to you. And besides, aren't you feeling a bit…warm?"

In truth, Oliver was feeling decidedly hot, even though the air around them was getting colder by the minute. At his silence, she fumbled on, embarrassed.

"I'm not saying that I want to…that we should…I mean—you know what I mean."

Oliver found her sudden inability to finish a sentence endearingly out of character. He grinned, and, to her surprise, he stood and removed both his overcoat and suit coat. He sat down again and reached out to help her slip her arms from her own coat.

"Now, Ms. McInerney, where were we?" And he pulled her into his arms again.

Even with only one layer of clothing between them, the heat actually increased, and in the midst of their passionate kisses, Oliver's tie disappeared like magic. Their hands roamed freely over backs, arms and necks, up to shoulders and once again into soft hair. They reveled in the freedom and excitement of expressing their feelings through touch, exploring and finding pleasure in the newness of it all.

But after a while, by unspoken agreement, they slowly began to pull away before things got too out of hand. It would be very easy, thought Oliver, and undoubtedly amazing, to take this quickly to the next level. They had both been out of relationships for some time, and natural desires as well as their depth of feeling could easily spur them on to doing something regrettably impulsive.

So, with a last, lingering kiss, Oliver rested his forehead against hers so they could catch their breath. He was so tempted to tell her he loved her, but that too seemed way too premature. After all, they hadn't even had a successful date yet.

"That was…unexpected," Olive managed as they both sat back against the couch cushions. He couldn't relinquish touching her altogether, however, and took her hand once more.

"Yes," Shane agreed, "but one could also say, a long time coming."

"A very long time," he admitted with a smile and a kiss on the back of her hand. As their bodies began to cool after their romantic encounter, they began to feel the coldness of the air around them. Shane shivered noticeably.

"You should get under the sleeping bag," Oliver suggested.

"If you'll join me."

Oliver's eyes narrowed as he focused on the improvised blanket while she picked it up to snuggle beneath it. Beyond this there be dragons, he thought wryly.

"You, my dear Shane, are a temptress."

Her innocent expression nearly did him in. "I'm only being practical. Wasn't that the idea you had when you brought the sleeping bag in here?"

"Well, yes…but it wouldn't be seemly for you and I to share it."

"Oliver, what we were doing a few minutes ago was unseemly. Are you regretting your lack of professionalism now?"
His expression softened. "No. Of course not."

She sighed. "If I promise to keep my hands to myself…?"

He shook his head and gave her a sheepish grin. "Perhaps I'm not worried about you, Ms. McInerney."

Even in the candlelight, he could see her blush.

"You're a gentleman, Oliver. I think you'll be able to control yourself. Come on. I won't be able to relax if I see that you're cold."

She might be overestimating his self-control, he thought.

She threw back a corner of the sleeping bag and patted the place beside her by way of invitation. "Please?"

Oliver had the sudden feeling that from now on, he would forever be under her power. But he wasn't a reluctant servant, evident by how easily he gave in and moved to sit next to her. Her smile was a mile wide as she pulled their blanket over them. Oliver had to admit that it was much more comfortable now, and when he felt her hand sneak over to hold his beneath the sleeping bag, he happily held on. Trouble, that's what she was. Lovely, amazing trouble.

He was so thoroughly enjoying their shared warmth that he realized if he was going to resist her, he would need a distraction.

"Tell me," he ventured thoughtfully, "what were your questions for me, had you won our bet?"

"Really? Are you saying you'll answer them?"

"Not necessarily. But I'd be interested to hear what you planned to ask."

"I was angry when I wrote some of them, and some seem a bit silly now..."

"The ones I asked were a bit silly, wouldn't you say?" replied Oliver.

"All but the last one." They shared a knowing smile, and Shane felt her skin tingle at the look in his eyes. "You might not like my questions now, Oliver, given what happened after you asked yours."

"Nothing could possibly tarnish the exceptional outcome of my questions," he said softly, squeezing her hand beneath the blanket.

She took out her phone from her pocket and pulled up a list of questions. Like Oliver, she had written several that had come to mind in a rush, intending to edit down to three if it had come to that. Oliver watched in amusement as she scrolled through her list, how she alternately cringed, frowned, or smiled.

"Let's start with this one. Mind you, none of mine were as easy as yours."

He nodded, mentally bracing himself. "Fire away, Ms. McInerney."

"Okay…do you believe men and women are equal?"

His eyebrows rose. He knew a trap question when he heard one, but he could only answer honestly. "I believe men and women are equal before the law. I believe in equal pay for equal work. In God's eyes, they are partners, help meets. But in all other ways, they are not equal."

"What-?"

Before she could get too riled, he hurried to explain. "I think women are better."

"Huh. Do tell."

"Generally speaking, women are more empathetic, more caring, more patient and understanding, and are the mothers of our children, and as such, deserve more deferential treatment. I know many may think me old-fashioned, but I will always stand when a woman enters a room, will open her door, carry her parcels, kill any offending insects or vermin, loosen her jars, defend her honor, and protect her from harm with my very life."

Shane smiled, knowing this about him already, having been on the receiving end of most all of his gentlemanly behaviors. She still thought of herself as a liberated, independent woman, but Oliver's gallantry called to her on a primitive level, and she had to admit this quality was one of the main things she loved about him.

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "That's a very good answer, Mr. O'Toole."

He blushed, but took the compliment. "Thank you. Now I'm feeling very confident, so please proceed with your next question."

She laughed, then looked back at her list. "I'm sorry for this next one, but I want you to see my mindset when I wrote this. I wanted to know what had made our date so awkward, what was putting this wall between us." She took a deep breath. "Do you still miss Holly?"

He visibly flinched. "No," he said vehemently; then, he qualified more calmly: "Not anymore."

She waited for him to elaborate, and he ran an agitated hand through his short hair, caught in her expectant expression. "Of course, I missed her very much at first—her laugh, her vivacity—she was frequently surprised me, though not always in a positive way. But then I met you, and I became torn between my loyalty to my marriage vows and my developing feelings for you. I did put up walls, Shane, to protect both of us. But when Holly came back, after the initial shock and my attempt at reconciliation, I knew that it would never work between us, and I was relieved when she realized the same thing."

"But you've been divorced for months, Oliver," she ventured. "Why was our date so difficult for you?"

He turned toward her. "Fear," he admitted. "Mentally, I know you aren't Holly, but I feared going through more heartbreak." He still feared that, if he were honest with himself, but he wasn't about to admit that to Shane, not when their new understanding still seemed so tenuous, so new.

She nodded, and he was relieved when she seemed to have let him off the hook.

"I have one more question—you don't have to answer of course. But it is one that has me the most curious." She swallowed, debating even in the last moment whether she had the courage to ask. Somehow, even after their kisses, if things were going to progress between them, she still needed to know.

"How do you feel about me, Oliver?"

He had sort of been expecting this question, despite how obvious the answer seemed to him after their recent closeness. He supposed he didn't blame her for still doubting him. And while he wasn't brave enough yet to say those three little words, after their failed date, he knew he owed her some reassurance.

He reached out and touched her hair, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. The feel of her skin had him momentarily distracted, and it took him a minute to gather his thoughts.

"How do I feel?" he repeated. "Well, that's an interesting question, Ms. McInerney, the answer to which would be filled with much depth and nuance."

Shane's mouth formed a straight line. "You sound like a politician, Oliver. If you aren't ready to answer the question—"

It was his lips that cut her off, moving over hers with as much love and longing as he could convey. If he could not yet say the words from his heart, at least he could show her how he felt, hoping through passion there would be no doubt of his true feelings. Eventually he would have to articulate those words, but until then, this was the best he could do. He hoped it was enough.

After a few heated minutes, Oliver drew away, pleased at her dazed expression and labored breathing. His own blood pumped headily through his veins, and he tenderly kissed her cheek.

"I hope that helps," he said.

"Yes," she finally managed. "But I think I might need some more of that depth and nuance, just to be sure."

They were both smiling as she found his mouth again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Near four-thirty in the morning, the electricity came back on. The sudden overhead light in the breakroom awakened Shane, whose first moments of awareness were of comforting warmth. Sometime in the night, in the midst of quiet conversation and occasional bouts of passionate kissing, they had drifted off to sleep beneath the sleeping bag. She didn't remember removing her boots or lying down on the narrow couch with him, or curling up against his side, her head resting on his chest, while strong, masculine arms surrounded her. They must have instinctively found their way in this position in their sleep.

They were fully dressed, of course (although the skirt of Shane's dress had ridden up a bit), for, while it had been very tempting to take advantage of their closeness, their isolation in the storm, they had resisted giving in to their desires. Perhaps it was too soon in their tenuous relationship, or perhaps it was Oliver's gentlemanly respect for her honor, but Shane knew in her heart their time together would come, and it would be perfect.

In the meantime, she could enjoy their current closeness, and her hand explored his shirt over the surprising muscles of his chest, up to his strong throat. She breathed him in, imagining what it would be like to wake up with him every morning, to feel his arms encasing her after a long night of passion. She smiled at the thought as her fingers lightly toyed with the sparse hair she discovered a few open buttons down. She turned her head to look at him, her chin on his chest. In that moment, he opened his eyes. They were soft and blue and dreamy as he looked at her, and he didn't seem shocked at all to find himself in this rather compromising position.

His hands came up to caress the back of her head, and he gave her a gentle smile.

"Good morning," he said, glancing up and grimacing at the bright lights. "I see the Lord has given us light."

She grinned, loving his unshaven face, his messy hair and wrinkled shirt. Rumpled, sleepy Oliver was very, very sexy. She stretched up and kissed his lips, feeling the effects of his touch all the way to her toes.

"I suppose we should get up," she said. "If anyone can make it in this morning, they'll be here soon." She looked at her smart watch and groaned. "It's not even five yet." A day in the post office started very early for some workers.

But neither of them moved. Once again, it was on the tip of Oliver's tongue to confess his love, but he settled for another sweet kiss. "Last night…" he began, but ran out of words.

"I know what you mean." Shane felt her eyes water with unspoken joy. If she hadn't already known before, their night together had confirmed how deeply she was in love with him. He reached up and wiped at a wayward tear with his thumb.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of someone opening the employees' back door down the hall, and at the same time, Oliver and Shane struggled to quickly get up and out from under their blanket. Unfortunately, their unplanned movements had them sliding off the couch and onto the floor, Oliver landing halfway on top of her in an awkward tangle of Shane's skirts. It was at that moment that they heard a familiar voice from the doorway of the break room.

"Well…looks like the cat is out of the uh…sleeping bag?"

"Oh my," said Rita, and she reached up to cover Norman's eyes as Shane's legs were exposed up to the thigh.

Although Oliver was relieved to hear their friends' voices (and not, thankfully, their boss's), he recognized how they must appear, and he managed to roll off of Shane (he would vividly remember the wonderous feeling of her beneath him much later, when he was alone), before reaching down to draw Shane to her feet. Oliver knew his cheeks must be as red as Shane's, but there was nothing for it. They had been caught in this unprofessional position, and they must deal with the subsequent damage to their reputations.

Rita lowered her hand, and they all silently agreed not to comment on what she and Norman had just witnessed. But it was hard for Rita to control her giddiness at seeing how close her friends had obviously become in the night, and she looked forward to hearing the details from Shane later.

"I take it the roads have improved," said Oliver hoarsely, before clearing his throat.

"The sand trucks have been out," said Norman. "When the electricity came back on, we thought we'd come and see how the post office fared. I see it was in good hands."

"We were stuck here last night," said Shane, stating the obvious. She belatedly remembered that she hadn't let Rita know what had transpired after the pair had left them.

"I see that," said Rita, eyes dancing merrily. "I'm glad you were able to stay warm."

"Uh, yes. We were quite um, warm." Oliver knew from Rita and Norman's overly interested expressions he was just making things worse. He turned helplessly to Shane. "Well, Ms. McInerney, it is still some time before we officially have to be in for work. Shall we attempt to go home—to our uh, respective homes—and get ready for the day?"

"Of course, Mr. O'Toole. Good idea."

With all the dignity he could muster, Oliver bent to pick up the sleeping bag, rolling it messily into his arms before snagging his discarded coats and walking, head held high, out of the break room. Norman followed him, regaling Oliver with additional news of the storm damage and the state of the roads.

Alone with Shane, Rita covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

Shane blushed at her friend's knowing expression. "Later," Shane promised in a whisper as she sat on the couch and zipped up her boots.

In the distance, they heard the opening of the door again, and the voices of the early shift postal workers, excitedly recounting their adventures with the ice. With a glance around the break room to ensure herself it was free of any damning evidence, Shane gathered her coat and the candles, one of which was still valiantly flickering, and Rita helped her pick up the ones in the hall before anyone else could be the wiser. They made it back to the DLO without being seen, to find Norman taking off his overcoat and Oliver putting his back on.

Shane and Rita set down the candles on the DLO work table and Rita and Norman watched silently as Oliver and Shane prepared to leave; they were trying suspiciously hard not to meet each other's eyes. There was obviously something heavy in the air that Rita and Norman had interrupted, but they were a patient pair, and knew their friends would share when they felt comfortable.

"We'll be back by nine," Shane assured them, slipping her arms into the coat that Oliver was holding gallantly for her. She grabbed her purse from atop her mobile desk.

"Yes, we will," Oliver concurred, adding for clarification: "Separately, in our own, individual cars." He and Shane left the DLO without a backward glance.

"That was weird," said Norman to Rita when they were alone.

Rita shrugged. "Love can be very weird sometimes."

"Are we weird?" Norman asked.

She turned to him and kissed him lightly on the eyebrow. "Yes we are, Norman. In the best possible way."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outside, it was still dark and bitterly cold, and Oliver held onto her arm as they carefully navigated the icy pavement. Someone had already helpfully sprinkled de-icing salt on the main walkway, but the parking lot was still like an ice rink. Beneath the security light, they stood before Shane's car in dismay, for naturally it was covered from stem to stern in a sheet of ice. From out of his coat pocket, Oliver produced two small ice scrapers he'd brought from his desk, brandishing them like a knight-errant's swords.

Shane laughed, breaking the tension. "Looks like we have our work cut out for us, if we're ever going to get out of this parking lot." Her breath hung in the air as she absently pulled on her gloves and accepted one of the scrapers.

Oliver grinned. "Perhaps, in the interest of time, we should just attempt to clear off one of our cars."

"Which one?" Shane asked, looking over at Oliver's Jaguar, which had fared no better than hers.

"Well, since I had the forethought to bring the ice scrapers, it makes sense that it should be mine. Also, I have much more experience driving in Denver weather."

She frowned. "DC gets its fair share of ice storms, Oliver."

"That may be so, but studies have shown that men are the better drivers, especially in inclement conditions."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're seriously not going there again, are you?"

"You can't argue with statistics, Ms. McInerney. Besides, we're wasting time arguing, and look, it's starting to snow."

Shane looked up at the sky and, sure enough, fine flakes were gently falling around them. His arrogance had always infuriated her, but she realized that with all his talk of statistics and the perpetuation of woman driver stereotypes, he'd forgotten whom he was dealing with.

She moved closer to him, and, sensing a trap, he regarded her warily. To his surprise, she tiptoed up to kiss his cold lips, which grew warm almost immediately as he automatically responded. But Oliver had made the perilous mistake of thinking her show of affection meant her acquiescence, for when she pulled away, she spoke in her most seductive tone, "How about a little wager?"

"Shane—"

"The first person to clear their windshield gets to drive."

He regarded her in amusement mixed with annoyance. "This competitive streak in you is not always your most attractive quality, Ms. McInerney, nor, in this case, your most expedient."

"Chicken?"

"Of course not, and you cannot goad me with elementary school taunting. I merely would like to avoid another couple of days' worth of the cold treatment from you after you fail once again."

"Then by entering into this bet, you obviously have nothing to lose, right?"

Oliver sighed, his fingers pinching the tense spot between his eyebrows as the snow began to increase in intensity. He calculated that with an ice scraper, it would take at least a half-hour to scrape off his windshield, perhaps twenty if he managed to get the doors of the Jag open to start the defroster. He was taller, with a longer reach, and as a man, he was obviously the stronger scraper.

"Fine," he said, "but when I defeat you once again, can we please put an end to all these pointless wagers?"

His face softened as he looked at her; with her pink cheeks and the snowflakes sticking to her blond hair, she reminded him of a Christmas angel. He couldn't resist bending to lightly kiss her again, simply because now he could. "Besides," he continued softly, "wouldn't you rather skip ahead to the kiss and make up portion of the argument?"

"Now, Mr. O'Toole, what would be the fun in that?"

She looked up at him with love in her eyes, her gloved fingers caressing his cheek.

Then, with a triumphant smile, she reached into her purse and pulled out a can of Quick-Melt Spray De-Icer.

THE END

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.