Author's Note: Well, in the last chapter, we finally got our first kiss between Oliver and Shane. Guess what? You're going to get it again, only this time, it's from Shane's POV. It backtracks on Chapter 5, so if you haven't read that one yet, I recommend you do so as it fills in the gaps. It's an exciting journey as these two navigate their blossoming relationship. Each has baggage from the past that continues to influence them, but thankfully, they have each other to help work through it. As always, these characters belong to the brilliant Martha Williamson and are brought to life by Eric Mabius and Kristin Booth.

Chapter 6

Shane nestled further into the softness of her voluminous down comforter, seeking to ward off the chill that now accompanied early mornings. Not only had the weather begun its seasonal shift, but so things with Oliver had begun a transformation of its own. Since Oliver left her standing on her porch as he made his departure last evening, she'd lost count of how many times she'd asked herself whether their passionate encounter had really taken place. Even under the warmth of her bedding, the memory of it sent shivers down her spine.

###

Oliver's unexpected invitation to join him for a drink after work caught her off guard, especially given how the day had played out.

A department head meeting on Tuesday morning had given her time to settle into the day before facing Oliver. Even though they had unwritten but mutually understood guidelines for their behavior at work, she was still curious how he would conduct himself around her in light of her "true confessions" of the night before. She was standing with Norman and Rita, the three of them hunched over a battered old box Norman had retrieved from the terminal annex. The creaking of the doors announced someone's arrival. She expected Oliver to turn the corner and come into view, and when he did, her heart did a little dance in her chest.

Oliver strode in, and at first glance, she pressed her hands firmly against the smooth surface of the stone tabletop, holding herself up as her knees turned to jelly. He was impeccably dressed in a charcoal grey three-piece suit. The collar of his blue-grey dress shirt was impeccably pressed and paired with a deep blue, almost black patterned tie that accentuated the intensity of his blue eyes. She wondered if he ironed his shirts or if they were done at the cleaners. While she couldn't pull her eyes from him, she was disappointed that he seemed more interested in the weathered box sitting in front of them. "What do we have here?"

After Norman explained what had been found, she reached into the box and pulled several envelopes out, wondering what condition they would be in and if there was any hope of tracking down the rightful recipients.

"Ms. McInerney, please stop!" Her eyes flew open, and she froze as Oliver's harsh voice rang through the air. Her hand opened as if on command, and she dropped the letters back into the box. His words reverberated through the stillness of the DLO, bringing not only Shane but Norman and Rita to attention as well. Flushed cheeks gave away her embarrassment at his public scolding, and though Oliver quickly backtracked, the impact of his admonishment lingered.

Her mouth dropped, and it took a moment for her to formulate her response. "I am sorry, Mr. O'Toole," strongly emphasizing 'Mr. O'Toole.' In her defense, she didn't know how fragile the letters were, and she quickly made a point of clarifying that with Oliver infusing her words with a hint of harshness of their own. "I have not yet been trained on the handling of such old letters."

Oliver's heavy sigh signaled to her he realized he was harsher than he needed to be.

Was her offense so great? From his reaction, one would have thought she'd drawn a mustache on the Mona Lisa with a Sharpie. Shane waited for him to apologize, but an apology never came. The disappointment she felt in Oliver cast a shadow over the rest of the afternoon.

She busied herself with one search after another to gather information that would send this first letter from the box on its way. She hoped the distraction would alleviate the lingering discontent that continued to nag at her, not unlike an insistent toddler poking at your arm to get your attention. It was only day two in the DLO, and Becky's voice was already popping into her head. "What happens if things don't work out between the two of you?" Her stomach plummeted at the thought of not seeing him every day. They'd already navigated several challenges. Surely, this little episode wasn't going to be a deciding factor in their viability as a couple.

When Oliver asked her to join him for a drink after work, she hesitated, the memory of his earlier words still stinging. However, her desire to spend time with him was greater than her annoyance, and it wasn't long before he'd persuaded her to join him.

As soon as she arrived home, she changed into her favorite pair of jeans, which fit in a way she hoped Oliver would appreciate. She topped them off with a light cashmere sweater, perfect for an early fall evening. Grabbing the blue blanket from the end of the couch, she wrapped herself in it and waited for him on the swing, curious about what he had planned.

She heard his car crunching on the gravel in front of her house and listened for his feet on the treads leading to her porch. She turned when the footsteps stopped. The glow of the porch light surrounded him, making it hard to make out his face, but the outline of his broad shoulders and tapered waist were unmistakable. He carried two grocery bags and asked her to get some plates, glasses, and, oddly enough, a single fork. When she returned with the requested items, she found a simple but romantic feast beautifully arranged on her little porch table. A candle casting a soft glow sat next to a delicate bud vase with a perfect yellow rose whose petals were beginning to uncurl. Her mouth watered when she saw he'd included her favorite dessert, a slice of decadently indulgent chocolate cake.

"Oliver, I, I don't know what to say...this is all very unexpected."

She sat as he poured her a glass of wine and then one for himself. Before she could say another word, he was giving her the apology she'd desired earlier.

"I want to apologize for my behavior earlier today. I was preoccupied with something that had been weighing heavily on my mind. Instead of talking to you about it, I let it affect my conduct toward you." He lifted his glass and touched it to hers lightly. "I am sorry, Shane."

She felt like she could melt into the swing right then and there. Oliver's heartfelt apology, along with the way he said her name, sent jolts of electricity radiating through every limb.

Oliver ate while she picked at her food. Their conversation shifted to their new letter mystery, and they speculated about what might be contained in the fragile envelope.

"Oliver, I don't know how you can be so patient and not just rip into the envelope to see what's inside."

"Well, we take the decision to open an envelope and read its contents very seriously. Our prime directive is to infringe on the recipient's privacy as little as possible."

"You are a much more patient person than I am, Oliver."

"Perhaps I do not possess the same level of inquisitiveness as you do," he replied with a warm smile on his face.

Oliver's eyes landed on her plate as she pushed her food around her plate. "Aren't you hungry? Do you not like it?"

"No, it's all perfect, Oliver." She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his. Sitting so close to him, she found it difficult to resist the overwhelming desire to reach out and touch him, and holding his hand seemed the natural thing to do at the moment. "Absolutely perfect. I think this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me."

She responded to his concern that she wasn't eating by telling him what she really wanted was a bite of the cake he'd brought her. Red wine and chocolate cake had always been her go-to comfort food pairing during tough times, but tonight, it wasn't about seeking solace. Sitting here with Oliver, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace.

Already feeling bold, she prodded him about his comment that something had been weighing heavily on his mind earlier in the day. He tugged at his tie before admitting he'd felt jealous when she told him about Steve. She cringed at his use of the word inferior and that he was letting his past influence how he perceived himself. Her hand rose instinctively to cradle his cheek, her thumb caressing his prominent cheekbone. Her eyes brimmed with emotion as she contemplated the significance of his words.

"Oliver, do you remember what I said? I could have gone back to D.C., but I chose to stay in Denver. By the time Steve came to Denver, I'd already met you."

She saw the change in his eyes and hoped her words were enough to encourage healing. She knew he would need time, and as far as she was concerned, she had all the time in the world.

Shane could more clearly see how the heartlessness shown to Oliver by his ex-wife had impacted his self-esteem. His request for her to be patient made so much more sense now. She longed to take away his pain and self-doubt and make him realize that he was not just a good man but a very desirable one as well.

They swayed back and forth gently, hand in hand, her head resting gently on his shoulder. She had long envisioned a moment like this, and any apprehensions about whether reality could live up to the dream quickly vanished. It not only lived up to the dream, but it far surpassed it.

"Oliver, you said last night didn't unfold as you'd hoped it would." The swing gently swayed beneath them. "How did you hope it would unfold?"

Oliver turned just enough to whisper in her ear. "Shall I tell you or show you?"

She quivered as his hot breath tickled her ear. She turned, her eyes flitted between his lips and his eyes. Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, her heart beating erratically. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing her skin as he pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes. She took soft, even breaths through slightly parted lips. Her tongue traced across them in anticipation of what was to come. She leaned into his hand as he wove it through her hair. Cradling the back of her head, he drew her closer to him until his lips met hers. It was gentle at first but grew in intensity until all that remained was her, Oliver, and the swing they sat on. Instinctively, her hands wrapped around as her fingers curled through the swirl of hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips parted briefly only to reconnect with greater fervor, leaving her breathless. They finally pulled away, and she gasped.

"Wow! Mr. O'Toole," a smile played on her lips, still vibrating from their kiss. "That was definitely worth waiting for."

###

Wednesday morning, it took three attempts to put on her mascara. Her hands shook, and her heart raced. She gently massaged her arms, trying to settle the goosebumps that prickled her skin, a familiar sensation that always accompanied the anticipation of being in Oliver's presence.

She remembered the first time she felt it. It was the night he found her on a park bench waiting for Charlie to appear. He was still married then, but emotions don't always care about timing. Past relationships, even with Steve, never stirred the kind of reactions she experienced with Oliver. Her finger brushed softly against her lips. She shut her eyes, the memory of the night before fresh, as though it had just occurred. She pictured herself enveloped in his embrace. She'd felt him tremble as their lips first touched. He'd intensified each kiss with a passion she always suspected he kept hidden behind his three-piece suits. Whew, she thought. That memory was going to make for an interesting day.

Arriving at work earlier than usual, Shane hoped to spend a few minutes alone with Oliver before their colleagues arrived. As she approached the DLO, the familiar swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and the fluttering was so intense that she felt as though she was being carried in on their delicate wings.

When she entered the room, the first thing she did was turn her focus directly to his desk. Giddy reassurance swept over her when she saw his silhouette leaning over, his hand running through his hair much like she had done the night before. His jacket was already off, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms.

She scanned the room and found it empty. They were alone. "Good morning, Oliver."

Oliver lifted his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Good morning, Ms. McInerney."

As much as she melted when Oliver called her Shane, the subtle sensuality of his calling her Ms. McInerney left her skin tingling. It was almost as though he was teasing her, as if he knew the effect his voice had on her.

Norman's entrance brought a quick end to the moment between them, which was probably a good thing because she wasn't sure she could restrain herself if Oliver came any closer. If she didn't get busy, she could easily waste the day dwelling on the question of how long she would have to wait until he kissed her again.

She settled at her desk, and first on her agenda was to check the search results that she started the day before. Studying the abundance of results that flowed on her screen reminded her of the work she did in Direct Line Operations. She took a moment to study her new surroundings. Rita was busy in incoming sorting through a bin of misdirects. Shane noticed Rita's eyes wandering over to Norman and the smile that crept across her lips when she knew he didn't see her. Norman was at his desk, his head buried in a book as thick as an old copy of the New York City Yellow Pages. But it was Oliver where her eyes rested. He was still deep in concentration, now rubbing his forehead. Her lips curled ever so slightly as she committed his mannerisms to memory. She left her gaze on him for a little too long, and when he raised his head, their eyes locked in a moment of unexpected connection.

She smiled at him sheepishly before turning her attention back to her screen. "Um, Oliver, my search turned up some options for the address on the letter. I couldn't find a name, though."

"Have you had any luck identifying the sender?"

"No, Norman's serum wasn't able to pull up any latent address."

"That's too bad."

She took the results and began revising her searches. As she typed, Oliver took a few steps over to her floating desk and stood by her side. As he leaned in, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. She wondered if he intended to cause the quick shudder that shot through her as the scent of his cologne filled the space around her. "Ahem, there's half of an address. 13… something…vania St., Denver."

"Are you able to do anything with a partial address?" Oliver's expression told her that he really didn't realize what she was capable of.

A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. "Yes, Oliver. That's my specialty."

"Oh, well then, please proceed."

The clacking of her keyboard filled the air. "Okay, well, I think the street is Pennsylvania. And the 13 at the start of the house number puts it in the 1300 block." Shane plugged the address into Google and waited for it to pull up on Maps.

She typed in the cross streets and waited. "Here it is, Oliver. Look."

"What?" Oliver's hand settled on her lower back as he leaned in for a closer look. She held her breath under the weight of its imprint. She wondered if he knew what he was doing. She felt his quick pull away and knew he realized his momentary lapse in behavior.

She used her mouse to maneuver the 360-degree street images of the 1300 block of Pennsylvania Street. She glanced at Oliver, who was staring at the screen like a deer in headlights. She slowed down and explained what he was seeing on her monitor. "It looks like some of the homes on that block have been converted to apartments or torn down and replaced by office buildings."

Oliver huffed. "Well, it is disappointing that modern buildings have replaced so much of Denver's rich history."

Shane gave Oliver time to wax on about how history was being pushed aside in favor of the newer and more modern. She wondered how they would adapt, considering her affinity for all things modern and his attachment to the past. Her chest tightened as the reality of that sank in. How would they bridge that chasm of thought?

Shane didn't want to interrupt him but knew he could continue on this thread for a while. "Oh my gosh, Oliver!"

"What is it?"

"Look at this."

Oliver leaned over, bringing himself unbearably close to Shane. "What am I looking at?"

Shane pointed her finger at the screen. "Look what's at 1340 Pennsylvania Street."

"Oh, my goodness."

"Oliver, we don't have enough information to determine if this is the intended address, and there aren't any more clues to research on the outside of the envelope."

"Well, then, we have no other choice. We need to open the letter." Oliver walked quickly to his desk and turned to Shane. "Ms. McInerney, this is your first official letter investigation as a member of the Dead Letter Office. Would you like to do the honors?" He pointed to the tray of letter openers on his desk.

Shane jumped from her seat and rushed to join Oliver. She ran her fingers over each unique letter opener, her curiosity stoked by the thought of each one's history. Choosing the right one seemed like such a heavy responsibility. She took her time until she heard Oliver.

"Ahem, Ms. McInerney, the sooner you make your selection, the sooner we can open the letter." Oliver stood with hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, yes." Shane selected a sleek pewter letter opener decorated with an elegant fleur-de-lis design at one end. "Here you go." She handed the opener to him but hesitated, holding on when he tried to take it. He looked up at her, and she couldn't help but smile, wondering if she affected him as he did her.

The blade ripped easily through the brittle paper. Oliver gently coaxed the contents out of the envelope. All four watched as Oliver gingerly unfolded the delicate paper. Shane's breath caught as something fell from within. She looked to Oliver for approval before touching it.

She brought it in front of her. It appeared to be a newspaper clipping of some sort. She unfolded it with an equally light touch Oliver had used on the letter. Her eyes widened, darting back and forth in disbelief. "Oh my gosh, Oliver, you're not going to believe this!"