Daniela stretched languidly and sighed, much like a cat after a long nap in the sun, before heading off to terrorize the bird population. She was a slight, petite woman who had learned early how use her strong personality to get her way and how to camouflage it when it would get in her way.

She glanced at the head on the pillow next hers and considered its owner. A slut when it suited her, her ability to blend in and be accepted as simply that made her invaluable, on that both Daniela and her employer agreed.

"So" she said, hiking herself into a sitting position against the padded headboard, "how's it going at the Refuge?"

"Quite good. Cassidy thinks I'm just a superficial vindictive bitch. Therefore he's ignoring me utterly. I embarrass him. Marc and Stephen don't know I even exist. Cal, I think, sees everyone as just a member of one of the teams, and as long as I perform well there, I'm fine.  Are plans progressing on the other front?"

"Yes. Now that the council has voted we can move forward on it. It's been suggested that the vote and the resulting influx might pave the way to using the recruits to demand a union of some sort and thus outside control for the Listeners since the recruits will lack the personal loyalty to Stephen that has always been a stumbling block for us." Daniela hesitated and then said. "Our employer isn't sure yet."

"Regarding what?" Fawn asked, toying with Daniela's hair. "I thought plans were quite advanced."

"They are of course. But now Marc, and the possibility of controlling the Listeners from outside. Plus there will be the new council and of course Stephen is finally going to marry the bitch.  So, it is a good time to make sure nothing needs changing."

"Yes, the alliance of Marc with Stephen is a stumbling block. Who'd have thought it." Fawn frowned.  "A shame he didn't die."

"A shame neither of them died. But, the public support has crested and is retreating with no other major problems than the alliance.  Have you learned anything new about the security set up?"

"Yes, I'm putting together a detailed briefing on it. One or two things I'm not sure of yet, but I'll find out the details in a day or two."

"Good. She is impatient now that we are so close. Is there anything else?" Daniela asked.

"Yes, Dinah and Marc and some others are going off somewhere. It might be a good time to infiltrate the hotel."

"Can you find out more?"

"Yes, I'm hoping to. But the things I heard sounded hard to credit.  Something about flying dragons."

"We need to know. And Dinah being back. She won't be pleased about that. It cost to her to end it the first time." Daniela's voice was positive, allowing no room for doubt.

"Don't tell me she finds him attractive."

"No she finds him useful and it makes her angry she can't control him as she thought to. She hates to be wrong."

"Ah. Well, perhaps she never controlled him. But then I wouldn't say that to her."

"It would be wise not too, but I find myself in agreement with you.  I think it unlikely anyone has ever really controlled him that he didn't allow to."

"Well, perhaps we can precipitate another fight between them. From what I've seen their alliance is not built on strong grounds. Both are independent and stubborn. I don't ever see them fitting together comfortably. At the moment it is just rutting. I doubt they've even talked."

"I'll suggest it to her when I see her." Daniela promised.

"Now, come down here, and play with me," Fawn said.

"You're such a slut." Daniela laughed sliding down in the bed. "Show me how much a one."

Chance listened to Laz tell him he was assigned to Irisa Diamond, wondering if the gods he was named after were playing some practical joke. Then he grinned to himself. Maybe it wasn’t a practical joke. Maybe it was an omen, a sign.

The next morning he knocked on her door early, ready to escort her through the day she had planned. He smiled as she opened the door, “Hi, I’m the new appendage slash minion.”

"Hi," she said smiling at him. "I don't suppose you do girl talk."

"Uhm, well...you could teach me, I suppose, or I could pretend."  Chance joked, his eyes inviting her to laugh.

She did laugh, and her eyes lit up letting him know she really enjoyed the thought. Then she eyed his outfit. "Although I think I might pass on the wardrobe suggestion part. Come on in. I'll be just a few minutes. And I'll pull up a copy of my revised agenda for the day."

"Thanks.  Then I can let Trevor know.  Do you need me to change?" he asked, scanning his khaki's and shirt.  "Jacket and tie?"

She grinned. "Nah, you're fine. You'll look just like the average camera man. Well, except you're neater."

She produced the copy of her schedule. "I hate to tell you this, but it's gotta be really flexible, so don't make plans during the day, because I might have to head to Home at just about any time. Nights though are better. I can generally put anything off so long as I promise them a spot for the early morning drive time."

"Got it.  Not a problem.  I watch you all day and then take you to dinner after?"  Chance grinned, his eyes full of humor.  "Or do you prefer carry out?"

"Dinner... Sounds like a plan."  She grabbed up her briefcase and turned to survey the room once. "Okay, let's go dazzle 'em with bullshit."

Hours later Chance set a tray of taco and burrito fixings on the desk and bowed to her.  "Madam, your dinner is served."  Then he conjured some beer and sat across from her, taking a long pull off the long neck and grinned.  "Quite a day there, lady. They all like that?"

She grinned. "Yeah, pretty much. This job is all about thinking on your feet and trying to guess what they're going to ask before they know they're gonna ask it. I love it. Odd. Never saw myself as loving this sort of thing."

"You sure are a fabulous dancer, must be why.  Plus it's exhilarating to out fox the opposition," he said, fixing a taco.

She laughed, as she fixed her own taco. "Is that what you like about your job, too? The outfoxing business?  I confess I don't like the shooting parts."

He grimaced.  "There's been more shooting on this job than I"ve seen in five years total, or longer.  usually, you deply visible security like this and they back off, rethink, start talking or find a new game to play.  Ain't happening here and it's strange.  But yeah, what I like is it's like all those games we played when I was a kid...all minute to minute sometimes, and the unexpected, going with the flow, thinking fast."

Irisa giggled helplessly as her taco fell apart on her. "Damn, I am not good with these things. It's an art.  So," she added after Chance helped her clean up the mess and told her where the sauce was on her cheek, "how did you get into the bodyguard business anyway?"

"I prefer," he said with dignity, fixing her a taco, "to think of myself as a security consultant or better yet, solder of fortune, living up to my name."

She was choking on her taco and he had to slap her on the back. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she tried to breath and laugh at the same time. "Aye, sir!" she finally managed to get out.

"Good.  Glad to see you got the chain of command down," he assured her, handing her some napkins and advising her on the spot on her chin.

Neither of them realized, that a bit down the hallway, a certain someone stood, frozen, listening to all this laughter and silliness. He wasn't eavesdropping. Exactly. He'd been minding his own business, just heading down the hallway to ... uhm.. to just...

It was late and Trevor St Cyr was finally closing up for the night. Dinner had come and gone, and he couldn't remember when last he ate. The job, supposed to be temporary and not really that difficult, had turned out far different from his expectations. Not that he didn't like challenges, mind you, but each death was a stab in his heart and in his self-respect. In his day and age, at least short of his time on a battlefield, deaths were the exception not the rule.

He yawned again, stood up and stretched, and wished the damn Refuge had a good pub. He'd like to get stinking drunk on good ale. He wouldn't even mind the hangover next morning.

He walked out of the Security Center and began to head toward his rooms, but then thought he'd at least look into the Ops Centre first. He didn't want to go lie down only to get rousted out barely after he'd crashed for the night.

It was while he was walking through the dimly lit hallway near the offices, all of which were currently dark and empty, he realized someone was standing in the hallway.

He waited a moment until his eyes adjusted. Ah, only Cassidy. But what the devil. The man was hitting his head against the wall and muttering. Trevor approached him and heard, "I'm an ass. I've lost her." several times in succession.

"Ah," he said to himself, the situation becoming clearer.

He walked up to Cassidy and asked, "You don't any any loaded pistols handy, I take it?"

Cassidy looked up.

"Well, that was going to be my solution, at one point. That or my second option, which I rather liked at the time, was to move to somewhere it was always warm, somewhere decidedly NOT England, perhaps Spain or Italy, and drink myself to death.  Which reminds me, I'd love a nice cold ale. How about you give me a lift to a nice pub somewhere and we both drink ourselves into oblivion."

Cassidy, somewhat dazed, whether from the pounding or the speech obliged.  They emerged in the epitome of an English pub, located, though Cassidy felt no need to share the information, on a side street in Picton, entry point and port on the Queen Charlotte Sounds on the South Island of New Zealand.  The pub was a block or so off the harbour and catered to the locals..fisherman, farmers and those who handled the tourist trade during the season, fast approaching but not there yet.

Inside the lights were medium, the footie on the telly and the ale keg cooled and potent.  The local boys were shooting darts and arguing over the cricket match just ended that had seen Kenya upset South Africa by over 200 bats.  Cassidy found a table while Trevor headed to the bar.

Trevor returned with pints of good ale and sat next to Cassidy so he could watch the footie.

"So, how's the ale?" Trevor asked after a while, when Cassidy seemed disinclined to talk.

"Fine.  You ever argue with yourself?  And always seem to lose?"  Cassidy responded, the words emerging like Trevor had put a quarter in a slot and they been just waiting for him to push the button.  He glanced at the footie and shook his head.  "Rugby, a game where they crossed sumo wrestling with soccer.  Only the Brits couldda dreamed that one up."

"Why thank you," Trevor replied. "I was a stupendous rugby player in my time. Crazy and miserable enough for it to appeal.  And yes, I argue with myself all the time. And I think it's always a losing proposition." Trevor waved for more ale.

Cassidy produced a credit card and handed it to the waiter.  "Put it all on this."  The waiter nodded and trotted off.  "I have screwed up any chance I had with her and now..."  he broke off and swallowed some ale.  "Hell, I'm not drunk enough, yet.  Explain the footie, while I fix that."

"It's easy. Men getting a quick feel and still feeling like men. Seriously. The rules are totally bogus,"  Trevor added at Cassidy's shocked look. "Look at that scrum, I ask you?" Men were down all over the field.

They clicked glasses and chugged.

Eventually, the footie broke for the half and Cassidy finished his fourth ale.  "I'm starting to get that maybe I took the wrong approach.  And she's starting to get that having a body guard isn't half bad.  Pretty good for one day, doncha think?"

"Ah, so you have competition and don't much like it, that it? I admit, I tended to cede the field at times too, but then I wasn't your sort." Trevor signalled for more ale.

Cassidy looked at him.  "What sort am I then?  Maybe that's my problem."

"The I can only live with one woman sort. Not to mention the I choose and she has no choice sort."

"I'll cop to the first but not the second.  But then every guy in my family's the same way."  Cassidy explained it morosely.  "If she'd be happy with someone else...that's what I want for her."

"Ah so you're also the noble sacrifice sort. Yeah, me too.  But seriously, if you really aren't the no choice sort, then aren't you shooting yourself in the foot by ceding the field at the first sight of competition? Look at it from her point of view. You're hers when she wants you. So, you're locked up and safe, she can look around a bit more, make sure she can't find a better alternative. But you, well, you're locked onto her. So no worries about you looking around."

Cassidy needed a long pull after hearing that, while his brain stem stirred and stretched, considering the possibilities.  "You're suggesting I go out with someone else?"

"Well, it's a slightly more pleasant plan than banging your head into a wall and crying 'all is lost.'"

"Well I started by hauling her off over my saddle, kissing her, then telling her I was in love with her.  I offer as my excuse for that that I'd been drinking.  I was retrieving my position slowly and then she almost got killed and I reacted."  He waved for another ale.  "I'm open to suggestions, and willing to consider a back brain lobotomy.  Unfortunately, I can't get excited about the idea of manipulating her by trying to make her jealous."

"Who says you're manipulating her?  If you truly believe she'd be happier with someone else and you are giving up, are you planning on a life of celibacy forever after? Look at it as showing her that you aren't obsessed with her any more. That you've accepted her choice of 'no' and you are moving on."

"I must admit, that's an interesting perspective."  Cassidy eyed his new ale and consulted an area of his brain normally unheard from in these matters, the mid brain; only it was unwilling to offer an opinion at this time.  He took a drink instead and waited.

"On the other hand," Trevor suggested, lips twitching, "you could start to play for the other team."

"Not a chance!"  It couldn't have been more definite.

"Yeah, didn't work for me either. So I just gave up on the girl who wouldn't have me and got on with life. Put the gun away, picked myself up by the balls and moved on. Including dating, if only because guys aren't as nice to look at as gals."

"How long did you keep drinking between giving up and going out?"  Cassidy finished his ale and considered the glass.  "I get horrible hangovers usually."

Trevor waved for more ale. "Oh, I did too. Still, it was better than sitting home alone. And besides, how can you meet a lady if you're pounding your head against a wall. Now there's a thought. Who's single you see every day? Other than Fawn."

"Oh, yeah," he agreed, "Other than Fawn."

It had been a long and grueling day for Irisa. What she normally loved about her job sapped her strength and ate at her guts. Through it all she kept hearing the word vulnerable.

She finally made it back to her rooms, took a shower, changed into her comfort pajamas, the flannel ones with the teddy bears, and sat with a glass of wine in the dark.

She'd never once before in her life envisioned anyone could be vulnerable to her. She was, apparently, the sort of woman who attracted the manly men who liked to dominate women, so that was what she'd learned to deal with. Not this!

She'd only just gotten past the whole feeling irritated at Cassidy thing, and had made it to the whole he's not such a bad guy and I've been misjudging him thing. She'd apologized! And yet out of the blue he'd suddenly decided she, what, wasn't worth the bother?

She poured herself another glass of wine.

So when Cassidy marched in all military-like and wearing his body armor to announce that he was going to stop asking her out (well, why not just do it, rather than yell at her about it?) and stood there seemingly his usual solid slab of granite without the merest hint of a weakness, not to mention a crack in that utter emotionlessness, she'd... well, she'd lashed out at him.  It had felt like a punishment, him rubbing his disappointment with her in her face, the way her father always had, and how her father had always said she was stupid and stubborn and had as usual proven herself not worth anything.

She finished off the bottle of wine and went to her small refrigerator to get another.

Once she'd settled back down she decided she needed to apologize, but that never seemed to work. So maybe if she sent him a note. Maybe then she wouldn't be distracted or have her mind caught up in something else and she could say what she wanted to say?

She sat down at the computer and turned on her email program, her tongue between her teeth, concentrating as hard as she could, except when she took a sip of wine.

Dear Cassidy, she started. Then decided 'dear' was completely wrong under the circumstances, since she obviously wasn't dear to him any more, and didn't deserve to be anyway, so she  left just 'Cassidy,'.  But that seemed awfully cold and she wasn't feeling cold toward him, she was feeling wretched. Uhm.  so she erased 'Cassidy' and just put, 'Hello,'.

'I'm sorry' she wrote and erased it quickly since that didn't even go anywhere near where it needed to go.  She sucked down her glass of wine, and thought as she toyed with the empty glass.

She up-ended the wine bottle but only a little bit was left. She wondered if Melly might have some wine, so she checked the hallway. It was empty. She tip-toed down the hallway barefoot, in her flannel teddy bear pajamas, her hair falling around her shoulders, and with no makeup.

She was halfway down the hallway when it suddenly occurred to her that IF Melly was in, Reno was probably IN with her. That made her giggle at first and then feel more horrible. Not to mention lonely.

She turned around and decided to just go to bed, but for some reason the hallway seemed to be swaying under her feet and she fell against a door, making it rattle. "Shssssh!" she hissed at the door, and wobbled a few steps down the hallway on tippy toe, until she heard a door behind her open up.

Cassidy heard the alarm and buried his head under the pillow. It wasn’t a deep enough hole. So, after enduring the noise for as long as he could he opened his eyes. That felt worse than the noise, but he been raised to do what he should so he got one orb focused on the alarm and started trying to maneuver his arm into position to kill it dead, forever.  He brought his fist down on it with a slam and nothing happened to the noise. He was, however, now bleeding from the side of his hand. So, dripping blood on what was no longer Tabitha’s carpet, a point he wasn't inclined to regard at the moment, he groped around and found the electric cord and gave it a hard yank, hurting his hand some more, and knocking over the lamp on top of him and pulling the alarm clock off the table.

He was, though, relieved to note that the alarm stopped. So grateful for success even at that price, he the lamp off of him and stuck his head back under the pillow. Nine minutes later the alarm went off again.

He’d forgotten about the snooze alarm.

He gave it up and stumbled to the shower, where he alternated between hot and cold for as long as he could, scrambling his hangover enough to allow him to dress, shave and grope his way in the direction of his office. Jordon, he was sure, would have pity on him and get him some coffee.

Unfortunately his office was locked and dark. He stared at the door unable to think, like it was something he’d never seen before. He was still there ten minutes later, leaning his head against the coolness of the drywall when Jordon arrived having been running errands on Home, as he’d informed Cassidy the night before he needed to do in the morning.

Jordon opened the door, took Cassidy’s arm and towed him through to his office, where he helped gently onto the couch and then left him there, the blinds drawn and the door closed while he went and got coffee, aspirin and an ice bag. He delivered the medical supplies and left his boss in peace.

An hour later he knocked on the door, fresh coffee in hand and hearing a noise he felt had a suggestion of Cassidy in it, went in.  Cassidy was laying on the couch, his feet and a lot of leg hanging off the end, ice on his face. He was breathing. He’d obviously availed himself of the medicine. Jordon grinned. He set down the fresh coffee and turned on the desk lamp at the other end of the room. Then he left again.

An hour later he repeated the process and this time Cassidy was sitting up. He held his hand out for the carafe and filled his cup, spilling only a little as his hand wabbled.

Jordon took a seat opposite and waited for new instructions…by hand or semaphore, he wasn’t picky. He just didn’t think voice commands were an option for his boss at the moment.

Cassidy surprised him. “What am I supposed to be doing today?” It was remarkably clear and had less gruffness than Jordon had expected.

“You’ve nothing you have to show up for. You can shove notes under the door all day in response to anyone who drops by. Natha said St Cyr wasn’t much better, if it helps. And he had an early meeting at Ocala this morning with Stephen and Marc. I’d say this was a sign. Next time you think you want to move up the ladder, Cassidy, you should remember this morning.” Jordon finished helpfully.

Cassidy just groaned and laid his head against the back of the couch.

As he did his brain stem showed up for work, reminding him that he had to see Irisa and let her know he was backing off, leaving the field to someone else, while he found someone else to share his field.

His frontal lobe was still comatose. His mid-brain, though, did have a suggestion. “Send her a note and go back to bed.”

Cassidy grasped it like a drowning man, omitted the note and informed Jordon he was leaving for the day. Tomorrow, he assured himself, would be a better day. And the next time he went drinking St Cyr…well he didn’t know what but he’d think of something. Thinking was too painful today.

Underneath it all, simple man that he really was, he was dying at the thought of losing her and the only bandage he had was that he truly did want only her happiness. It didn’t help; nor did the thought that for once neither was trying talk to her about. His only course was the action he planned.

All three parts of his brain concurred, but that might have only been because it was fastest way to get him to shut down the system and wait for a better time to reboot.

The next morning Cassidy woke, opened one eye and assessed the state of his hangover.  Gone!  But not, he thought, forgotten.  Bloody St Cyr and his footie!

As he showered and shaved he considered one last time his decision to let her go and concluded, again, he'd no other option.  He'd messed things up beyond repair and ending it now rather than making it worse by trying to fix it was the best way.  And, he thought, putting it off wouldn't make it easier.

So thinking he detoured by her office and found her working, sorting through a stack of stills.  He knocked on the open door, saying "Hi, may I come in for a minute?"

She looked up and gave him a dazzling smile. "Good morning."

He responded with one significantly less dazzling and moved a few steps into the room.  "I uh, just wanted to say that, uhm...well...I won't be bothering you anymore.  And that I'm really sorry for everything."

Her smile faded to a puzzled sort of frown. "Uhm. What?"

He gestured vaguely.  "You tried to tell me and I should have listened to you before this and I didn't.  I'm sorry for that and for scaring you.  So, I just wanted to let you know I got the message and that I really want you to be happy, so I'll stop...well stop bothering you, trying to date you."

Her eyes narrowed. "Ah. So you did lie to me. I knew it!"

"Uh?" he said, clearly at sea.  "Lied? I never lied to you."

She got up from behind her desk and walked up to him, poking a finger into his chest, eye to eye (well, yeah, she was shorter but still), and those eyes dangerously smoky. "You told me you loved me, that ... Men. You're  all alike aren't you. You profess undying love until you get us into bed then it's hit the road jack.  Only this time you didn't get that far, did you buster!  Fine, good knowing you."

Cassidy grasped her finger, just enough to stop the assualt on his chest and said, the seriousness of his voice underscored but it's very softness, "Irisa, don't.  Backing off isn't about not loving you.  I'll never stop loving you."  His voice got even softer.  "I don't think I could.  But more than anything, more than I want you, I want your happiness and since it doesn't seem like that's unlikely with me I'm just letting it go now rather than making it worse."  He let go of her finger and looked at her for a minute, then turned to go.

"Idiot!" she called after him.

"No, just vulnerable."  And as he closed the door he heard something crash against it.  He headed for his office he wondering if it was too early to start drinking again.

She was sitting at her desk, her eyes red staring down unseeing at the stills in front of her when Chance, all smiles and manly charm walked in.

She jumped, embarrassed to be caught with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. "Oh, come on in."

"Hi, you ready?  Or am I early?" He asked and then registered the state of her make up.  "Uhm, if you'd rather...if you're not ready I can go get a cup of coffee."

She just groaned. Thank god she'd at least picked up what was left of the vase she'd thrown at the door. Then, "I, uhm, I just need a minute. She got up and headed for the relative safety of the rest room. "Would you mind terribly getting me a coffee too?"

"Sure.  Be right back."  He left, puzzling and returned thinking he'd found daylight.  He set her cup on the desk and then relaxed on her couch smiling to himself.

"Sorry," she said as she exited the lavatory, having repaired her make up. "Bad morning."

"No problem."  He smiled.  "The punters are having a bad day too, I expect."

"Oh?" she looked up at him clearly confused by the change in topic, but not unwilling to accept it.  "Some college football team's star quarterback end up in a scandal?"

"Nope, not that I know of.  I was thinking of the horse races, actually.  The one 'tween Cassidy and me.  All those guys who bet on him, not me."

"Uhm, what?  Are you two competing in something?"

"Ah," he said, grinning cheerfully.  "Didn't think you knew.  The pool on who'd get you...him or me."  Chance swallowed some coffee, wondering if he'd ever tell Cassidy what he owed him.

Her mouth fell open. "I swear to God I'm going to wring Reno's scrawny little neck one of these days. So that's why... Oh God," she groaned again. One word kept repeating itself in her mind and it was like a knife in her gut every time she heard it: vulnerable.

Cassidy had moved through the day on autopilot, a haze of pain fogging his brain and keeping his alter egos comatose.  He considered drinking his lunch and then his dinner and rejected the idea both times.  It wouldn't work and the hangover would make the haze worse.  Instead he went back to his rooms got out the chess board and set up a new problem.  It gave him something to stare at while he pictured her and wept inside.  Hours later and not a piece moved he was rudely jerked back into the present by a slam on his door.

Opening his door he looked and saw and stopped...just stopped and stared...as Irisa spun around and then for no reason he could discern sat down Indian style in the middle of the hallway looking up at him, her eyes huge and her hair tumbling over her shoulders.  He took a step closer and realized she was wearing flannel jammies with teddy bears on them.  A smile he couldn't control spread across his face as he took in the scene and the haze lifted.

Damn fool woman.  She was drunk.  She'd gotten drunk and quite possibly over him. God, she was adorable!  He loved her so much it hurt just to look at her sometimes, and his throat closed up when he got close to the reality of how much power she had over him.  The damn fool woman!

"These are my fav...er, favorite jammies. I think I just tore them," she said sadly, looking at the pant leg. They were apparently a little too long for her and she'd stepped on them and tore part of the bottom hem off. A fat tear slid down her cheek.

Oh God!  She was crying!  He bent down and helped her up, wiping the tear away with his thumb.  "Sweetheart..."

She met his eyes and said, "I was gonna ap.. uhm, apple... uhm."

"Apologize?" he suggested.

"Yeah, that, but when I do it doesn't like, uhm, work out right, so I ... Sorry is such a lousy word, you know? It doesn't sound like it's sorry. It sounds cold and hard and not like what I want it be, you know?  And... And what did you, uhm, say?"

"Apologize?" he offered.

"No not that one. Something else, uhm, never mind.  I don't suppose you can sew?"

"Yes.  You mean what I said before?  Sweetheart?" He smiled and said it again, tenderly, "Sweetheart."

"Because I never could. I was a tomboy, and girls were supposed to do that but I couldn't. I kept sticking my finger and getting blood all over everywhere. I'm so sorry."

He was totally at sea and he didn't care.  "You're adorable.  I'd like very much to kiss you."

She pointed at her forehead. "Is okay."

He pulled her close, brushing her forehead with his lips.

"Here?" she said pointing at her cheek.

He obliged. Then, "how about here?" he suggested, feathering a kiss across her lips, light as down and then gone.

She stood up on tiptoes and kissed his lips.

He let her.  He grabbed on to his instincts with an iron hand and let her, his hand buried in her hair, supporting her head.

When the kiss finally ended, she asked, "You aren't mad at me?"

"Mad at you?  Of course not.  Why would I be mad at you?  I just can't stand seeing you unhappy and I make you unhappy...don't I?" He searched her face, his thumb caressing her temple.  "I think I'm going to kiss you again.  I hope you don't mind."  He gave her all the time in the world to refuse as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Minutes later he finally drew breath.  He lifted his head a bit and searched her face again all flushed and rosy from his kiss.  "Here's where I say I can either see you safely back to your room and leave you to sleep in peace or carry you to mine.  The choice is yours."

"Yours is closer and my feet are cold."

He laughed and swept her up, "I'll warm them for you."

Once he'd maneuvered her through the door, and kicked it shut behind them he carried her over and laid her down on his bed. He looked at her, trying to assess if she was so drunk she might think he was taking advantage of her when she was sober.

She met his eyes. "You promised to warm my feet for me."  And she smiled up at him.

"Irisa, I...I need to know you're sure...that I'm not just...Are you sure," he asked, afraid to touch her in case she wasn't.

"It's because I'm not wearing a sexy teddy, isn't it?" mischief lighting her eye. "The teddy bears are too much for you."

"No.  They're adorable, just like you are."  He joined her on the bed and pulled her against him.  "You can maybe wear a sexy teddy next time, assuming of course," he said smiling at her, "you decide on a next time."

"I'll let you know in the morning. Now turn off that brain and make love with me."

"Yes ma'am," he said and did what he was told.

He’d fallen asleep holding her, remembering the expressions on her face as he’d slowly, with devastating attention, explored every inch of her, bringing her senses to life and sharing with her all of his joy in the doing, hiding none of his own enthrallment with her. Surprise had chased delight across her features followed by stunned disbelief and awe as the hours had passed. He woke, still holding her, her face relaxed in sleep and peaceful, her soft breathing feathering his chest. If he could have his way there’d never be another night when he didn’t pleasure her into sleep just so he could wake, holding her close and seeing that look of peace on her face every morning for the rest of his life.

He’d thought he’d never know the joy of her, of holding her while she slept, of loving her as she deserved, of lavishing pleasure after pleasure upon her. He brushed the tendrils of hair from her face and feasted on the sight of her. Please God, he thought, no regrets. He didn’t know what he’d do if she hadn’t known what she was doing last night when she said yes. He didn’t think he could walk away again. Not and stay sane.

He shifted slightly, settling her more comfortably against him and she murmured and stirred, her eyes drifting open. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing a kiss across her forehead, his feelings for her an open book written in his eyes and the smile he gave her.

She reached up and touched the strong line of his jaw. And felt the stubble. "I thought I might have dreamt this for a minute."  She smiled. "Good morning, Cassidy."

"Good morning, indeed," he said, kissing her properly.  "Sleep well?" he asked when he finished.

"Mmmmm," she murmured stretching. Then met his eyes squarely. "Are you worrying I didn't know what I was doing last night?  Don't, please."

"You're sure," he asked, his eyes suddenly serious.  "No regrets?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," she replied solemnly as she did the motions. "Come here," she said afterwards and pulled his head down to kiss him.

When she let go he grinned at her, "Oh no, you're not getting off that easily.  I wasn't done yet."  He shifted her in his arms as he kissed her, pulling her closer, his hands drifting over her curves.  He raised his head, his eyes scanning her body slowly.  "You are so beautiful," he said, making no effort to hide the desire he felt for her.  "Absolutely perfect."

"And you lie most beautifully," she said with a smile. "You know, I'd rather you accepted me and my flaws, because I have a lot of them."  She'd begun teasingly but had gotten a bit more serious as the words came out.

"If I said I agree, you've lots of them, you'd probably sock me," he said.  "Truth is, I do know and I think they're part of what makes you so perfect.  Whether it's that," he went on, his hand shaping a breast, "the right one is a bit smaller than the left. Or," he said as encouraged her nipple to spring to life under his fingers, "some other sort of flaw like thinking I'd lie to you about something like that, or anything else for that matter."

"Yes, that is part of my problem. Because you confuse me, Cassidy.  I don't know what you mean all the time. Like using the word perfect. I was expected to be perfect. By more than one man. I don't like having to be perfect. It means, to me, that I surrender what's me, and let someone else tell me how to act, how to dress, what to feel. I'm not saying that you are, just that the word brings those memories along with it. Do you understand? Please tell me you'll try to. Because I don't want to get you wrong again. Or do you a wrong, but ... Well, I sometimes react before my brain gets in gear."

"What I mean is that you...just like you are...you..." he stopped groping for words and not finding them.  So he did the only thing he could think of to explain.  He opened himself to her utterly, showing her how he felt about her, how she felt to him, how she fitted against places inside of him that he hadn't even known were there.  He opened himself to her emotionally, sharing with her the joy he felt just knowing she was alive, that he could touch her or see her smile, hear her laugh and watch the expressions move across her face.

She looked, tentatively, as if afraid to hurt him, to look too closely. She passed from disbelief to astonishment to acceptance of the truth he was sharing with her, but then passed into regret that had him floundering again.

When she saw that she said, aloud, "No, not regret for this. This is wonderful.. It's that I can't .. I'm not ready.. I wish I could say I felt that way too. But.. I .. Not yet. I .. I don't fall in love easily. I'm .. afraid of it, maybe."

"Sweetheart, all I'm hoping for is that you'll...you'll believe I'm willing to wait and see what happens, that I'm not expecting you to...anything, I guess.  The men in my family, we're all wired like this...it's the family curse I'm afraid.  My dad waited two years for my mother to catch up.  I'm willing to give you all the time you want to make up your mind...either way.  I'm not expecting anything...just hoping, and asking for the chance to...to court you I suppose, to court your love."  He watched her eyes, searching for understanding, his hand smoothing circles on her back.

She regarded him then finally shook her head. "Court me. You sound like someone out of Trevor's time."  But she was smiling.   Then, more seriously, "Okay, how about this. We date, we make love, we fight, we make-up and we see where it goes from there. Because if you're going to go all  protective on me, Sebastian Cassidy, you and I are going toe to toe over it."

"So, then we go toe to toe,  nose to nose.  I like it when you're close to me.  That isn't the point.  The point is that we deal with it, we face it, we talk about it and work it out so that it's okay for both of us.  We bend where we can and accommodate where we can't.  But you need to know that when I go all protective it's not that I think you can't or haven't the right to decide for yourself, it's that I don't think I could bear it if it all went pear-shaped and I lost you."

She thought about that for a few minutes, as she twirled his chest hair in her hand. "I'll try. But when there are things I can't accommodate on, or bend on, the things that are based on principle and promises made, and needs that are mine alone, that you won't think I'm not mindful of how painful it might be for you, when I say 'no.  And I'll do my best to accept yours that way too. And that you are Sebastian Cassidy who has a very unfortunate family history of mild insanity and falls in love in a heartbeat."

He thought about that seriously before saying, "I'm not gonna try to stop you from crossing the street by yourself.  I will however ask you to look both ways, maybe twice even, before you do.  And if you're standing there looking at a bullet headed your way, I'll probably try to take it for you, if I can't stop it some other way, but I'll never do it behind your back.  So, if you can try to understand that, then I think we have a plan."

"I still think you have lousy taste in women, but we've got a plan. Now, could you do that thing you did awhile ago, you know, the one that made me damn near die for enjoyment?"

"Whenever you want, lady.  'Cause I love it when you do that."  He shifted preparatory to killing her. "Does this mean I can tell you I love you, now, whenever I want?"

"Well, maybe not in public. Yet."

"Works for me," he said and did his best to kill her, several times over.