Disclaimer: I do not own characters, show, etc.

A/N: A take on how Harm and Mac moved beyond friendship. If you read ‘First Time’ you might remember Mac flashing back to how Harm and she ‘figured it out’. This is an elaboration on that. The below is from Mac’s pov. There is also a parallel piece from Harm’s pov because I thought be an interesting exercise to write them that way.

More than Friends- Mac

She looked up from her paperwork to see Harm leaning against the door jamb to her office. Thank god. She needed a distraction from the piles of work on her desk and her less than stellar day. Harm was usually good for that.

“Hey, Harm.” She couldn’t keep the tiredness from her tone.

“Afternoon, Mac.”

“What’s up?”

He shrugged and entered her office. “Haven’t seen you since staff call. What have you been up to?” He made himself comfortable on one of the visitor’s chairs facing her desk.

She looked at the papers strewn across her desk and sighed. “Same old, same old.” She leaned back against her chair and twirled her pen between her fingers. “Actually,” she eyed him mischievously, “I was hoping you could offer me a good distraction from all this work.”

He returned her look, his eyes dancing. “Sorry, Mac, no run-ins with unhinged clients or bristling superiors to report on my end. But I hear you had a run-in of another kind…”

Ah. So that was why he was here. Leave it to him to rub it in. “You didn’t come to shoot the breeze! You just wanted to gloat.”

He looked at her in feigned wide-eyed innocence and raised his hands defensively, “Who, me? I’m just trying to offer you a shoulder for your troubles, Mac.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “Harm! It’s not even remotely funny! I had to call a tow-truck for my car and then call a cab to come pick me up. There was a back-log because the rains were causing delays. I was drenched coming in because my stupid umbrella flew away in the wind! In the middle of the damn highway!” Recounting her horrendous morning was making her quite upset. “I came in here late, looking like a drowned cat.”

She saw him smirking and threw her pen at him. It hit him square in the chest and he made the effort to look properly chastised. Her victory, though, was short-lived as she remembered the evening that loomed ahead for her. “And now I have to go to the garage tonight to pick up my car – if they can fix it. And I don’t even know if such a thing is covered by my insurance. Act of God? Accidental collision? Hit and run? Well, not really a run.” she sighed at the potential dent this might place in her finances. Dent. Who was she kidding. More like a humungous gaping chasm. “They told me to come at 9 tonight. Ridiculous! And I have to get my car tonight since no staff cars are available tomorrow – there’s some conference taking place – and I need to go to Norfolk first thing in the morning. The work day is already over and I haven’t had the time yet to requisition a car to take me to the garage – if they have any left. With my luck, the stupid rains will somehow have caused every government employee in a three state radius to need a vehicle.” She realized she may have been laying the hyperbole on a bit thick, but this whole situation was so unbelievably incredible.

“Well, Colonel Doom-and-Gloom, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Some good things came out of this experience.” He looked sincere as he said this, she thought. Or at least as sincere as a gloating Harm could look. She hoped for words of support that might make her feel better. She expected a punch line. “But, Mac, it’s not everyone who has the unique skill of catching a pigeon with a car. You’ve discovered a new way of hunting game. In an urban setting, no less. That would sell at least a few books.” His poor attempt at looking concerned turned into an all out grin.

So there it was. Ha ha.

“Funny, Harm.”

“You should call the book, ‘Urban Jungle: The Art of Hunting Pigeons with All-Wheel Drive’.” He twirled the pen she had just thrown at him between his fingers, feigning serious contemplation. She frowned at him. Jerk.

“Apparently sarcasm is lost on you today. So let me rephrase: Not funny, Harm.” She thought she might have found the situation mildly amusing if it wasn’t so inconvenient. Or if the pigeon had not been hurt. Or if her car had not been hurt. Or if she had not had the living daylights scared out of her by that blind rat with wings. Or maybe she would never have found the situation amusing, regardless of anything.

She threw her hands up in exasperation as he laughed at her rejoinder. “The stupid bird scared the skin off of me, Harm! I didn’t know what hit me.” Maybe if she appealed to his protective instincts he would stop teasing her and leave her to wallow in self-pity for the absurd turn her day had taken. Who got hit by a pigeon on a highway? She supposed she could add it to the list of incoming projectiles she had faced over the course of her years as a marine. What would such a list look like? Bullets, grenades, rockets, pigeons… Whatever form the list took, she doubted she would ever share it with Mother Hen Harm.

His laughter faded and he eyed her thoughtfully. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

She shook her head.

“How badly was the car damaged?”

She used her fingers to make check off a list: “Cracked windshield. Dented grill. Dented hood. Broken headlight. And feathers and, umm, other stuff,” she shuddered at the memory, “everywhere. It was an incredible amount of damage for such a small mass.” The humour in his expression disappeared. He must not have known the full story. Who had he heard about the incident from, then? Obviously not the Admiral. He looked decidedly unwell . Perhaps it would be a good idea to lighten the situation before his mouth got ahead of his brain and annoyed the marine in her. “Not to worry; nothing permanent. My marine instincts haven’t failed me yet. But I guess you can’t be too safe so I’ll just make sure to feed the pigeons really well the next time I’m in a park. Get in their good graces, you know. Fear not, I’ll put in a good word for you. You can thank me in anything but meatless meatloaf.”

She watched as he wrestled with some internal debate, his eyes fixed on hers. He finally went from looking very worried to slightly relieved. She waited for his next attempt at a humorous punch line. “Maybe we could grill up whatever you catch in your next round in the urban jungle, Mac.” That was mildly funny, she conceded. They smiled at each other and she decided she preferred being on the receiving end of his teasing to that of his worrying.

His smiled dimmed as they looked at each other a long moment. His gaze was once again fixed on hers. She could see that he was attempting to decide on something. What could he be thinking?

He finally looked like he had made up his mind. “I’ll give you a ride to the garage tonight.”

She was surprised by his offer and felt slightly guilty for making him feel the need to make such amends for a little teasing. “It’s out of your way, don’t worry about it. I can manage just fine.”

“Come on, Mac. I’ll throw in take-out at my place to pass the time. Then I’ll drop you off at the garage later tonight. You won’t have to worry about cab fare or requisitioning any cars. And you’ll get to spend an evening with me.” He gave her his best smile and winked.

She raised an eyebrow at his blatant attempt to charm. “You don’t have plans, Don Juan?”

His smile, if possible, widened. “I will if you say yes.”

She shook her head at him and laughed. “Well, I would hate to leave a gap in your social calendar. Just give me a minute to organize my desk.”

He eyed her desk critically, “I’ll believe that when I see it, Mac.”

------

“How was court?” She watched the trees whizz by as Harm merged onto the highway.

“Had to get a continuance. Client was withholding information. He was suddenly hit with the revelation that it might be a good idea to share with his counsel all of two minutes before the judge came out of chambers.” She saw him shake his head in disapproval from the corner of her eye. She turned to face him.

“Annoying.”

He nodded as he checked his blind spot to change lanes. “That’s not the half of it. I spent the rest of the day trying to mediate said client’s own family melodrama.”

She laughed softly at the mental image of Harm trying to placate harried parents. She bet the details to that story were very juicy indeed. Before she could ask him to elaborate, he looked over at her and asked, “What do you feel like having for dinner?”

Ooh, dinner. She was getting really hungry. Pizza? No. She didn’t feel like it. Burgers? The day Harm let her eat a greasy burger in his apartment would be the day tomcats grew on trees. Chinese? They’d done that ad nauseam. And she didn’t really trust the food at the Chinese restaurant near his house. They’d eaten at the restaurant once instead of getting their usual take-out as a reward for spending hours poring over an incredibly dull but complex case. Harm was not pleased with the service and made a show of tipping really badly. A really unwise move, she thought, since it was a neighbourhood restaurant in his neighbourhood. She was sure the cook now did funky things to their food whenever they placed an order. Spitting in the food, at best. At worst, well, she did not want to think about that. Italian? No. She had a long drive ahead of her once she picked up her car and pasta would put her to sleep. Thai? Hadn’t a new place opened up not far from his apartment? She could really go for some green curry.

“How about that new Thai restaurant that opened a few blocks from you? I’m in the mood for some green curry. You can get tofu something.” She made sure to inject a heavy dose of revulsion in her tone.

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised, “You might like tofu, Mac.” He looked a little smug and she wondered why.

“And I might not. Why put myself through the trauma of finding out?”

He shook his head and smiled, turning his attention back to the road. “Thai it is. You can get the number off directory assistance and place the order. It’ll be ready by the time we get there.”

She nodded as she fished her cell phone out from her purse. She dialled directory assistance and watched the rain drops patter against her window as she waited for the operator.

“I can’t believe it’s still raining. It’s been two days straight.”

“Don’t fear, Mac. My pilot instincts are far superior to your marine ones.” She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to finish that thought out loud. He happily forged ahead, oblivious to her warning. “You let the pigeon hit you. My finely honed skills will allow me to avoid any incoming aerial threats.”

She snorted. He could be such an idiot. “You just don’t know how to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. And how could you if you choose tofu over meat? Can’t exactly hunt soy in the wild, now can you.”

“Just order dinner, Urban Huntress.”

She turned her attention to the phone as the operator transferred her call. The rain really was coming down hard. She never really liked the rain. It had never carried good memories for her. She sighed and forced her mind away from that depressing line of thought. She was immeasurably pleased that Harm had offered to spend the evening with her. There were few people whose company she enjoyed as much as Harm’s and fewer still who could take her mind off the dark mood she seemed to sometimes sink under. She was pulled out of her thoughts as she heard the operator put her through to the restaurant.

She turned to face Harm whose eyes were still on the road. “What tofu dish will you regale your taste buds with tonight, Harm?”

“Pad Thai.”

She placed their order. As she disconnected the phone, she turned to him, “Ready in 20 minutes.”

He nodded and changed lanes to exit the highway.

“Thanks, Harm, for dinner and the company.”

He shrugged and smiled, “Anytime.”

For some reason she didn’t want to dwell on, she felt comforted by his answer. It gave her a warm feeling of simmering happiness deep in her gut. She smiled. “So,” the sudden urge to needle him overtook her, “you never finished telling me about your stint as a family mediator.”

He grunted in response and she couldn’t help but laugh at the frown that spread on his brow. Served him right for bugging her about that stupid pigeon incident. “Did you find your true calling? You could write a self-help book. I would suggest: “Friendly Skies: How to Successfully Navigate Domestic Turbulence.”

He was trying to ignore her. Ha! Like that had ever worked for him in the past. “I’m just offering a friendly shoulder, Harm.”

He continued to stubbornly stare at the road, but she could see the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. She felt the odd urge to kiss it into one of his full-fledged smiles. She ignored it.

He finally spoke. “The Petty Officer said he had no alibi. Turned out he did and it was another officer. A female other officer. He was sure to swear at least six ways from Sunday that they were only friends. He didn’t want his family to think he had a girlfriend because his parents insist that he not mess around with the opposite sex until he’s settled in his career. I don’t know why.”

“That was the family drama?”

“It gets worse. His mother overhead his confession and made a fuss, wanting to see the female officer. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Called her son an ingrate for messing up such a good thing in his life. She shouted it in the middle of the courtroom. Told him he was just like his father. I have no idea what that meant but it made the petty officer go red in the face.”

Her eyes widened in incredulity and she tried to look solicitous but she really just wanted to laugh. He glanced at her and shook his head in amusement. “I guess turnabout is fair play.”

She silently thanked him for the reprieve and burst into laughter. He joined in after a moment.

“Judge Morris was livid, told me to remove my client before he and his family disgraced the ‘noble and solemn tradition of military justice’.”

“He did not!”

“Those exact words, Mac.” She laughed even harder. “I took them into the nearest conference room and tried to calm all parties down. By this time, the female petty officer – P.O. Graves – came into the room because she thought she had missed the hearing and was looking for an update. He may not have wanted to flirt with the appearance of impropriety, but he had no qualms about flirting with Linda Graves in front of his incredibly upset and very vocal mother.”

“You’re kidding, Harm.”

He shook his head. “Swear on my wings. I didn’t know what to say. They were not acting like just friends. I considered leaving the room when he jumped into a ‘just friends’ speech with his mom. That stopped me in my tracks but only increased his mother’s anguished cries. I think she and I agreed that they were not fooling anyone.”

“Well,” she tried to rein in her laughter, but was failing. “Maybe they’re just so comfortable with each other they don’t even realize how their interaction could be misconstrued. They could be only friends.”

“No way, Mac. You didn’t see them. I thought the conference table between them was going to burst into flame, the way they were looking at each other.”

She didn’t believe him. “Alright, then. What was his alibi, where were they?”

“A video arcade.”

“You’re joking!”

“Nope. Scout’s honour." He parked the car. "Here’s the restaurant,” he glanced over at her. “Want to make a run for it?”

---------

She put his key in the lock to his apartment, all the while fighting not to comment on his outdated chivalry. When they had finally arrived at his apartment, he had grabbed the take-out bag from her hands and thrust his apartment key at her. “You unlock the door, I’ll grab this. There’s an umbrella in the backseat.” He was already holding their briefcases and she had wondered how he had managed to get to them so quickly. “I can carry the food, Harm,” she had tried to protest, but he was already halfway to the building entrance, trying to keep from getting too thoroughly soaked. She shook her head and followed, grabbing the umbrella from the backseat. He could be so funny at times. It was not as though she couldn’t help, she was probably in better shape than him. And she had not yet melted in the rain.

He was standing behind her now, anxiously moving from foot to foot, trying to balance their briefcases and covers and dinner, all the while dripping wet. She could hear the squishing of his shoes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She debated taking her time to unlock the door and letting him bear the full weight of his ‘gentlemanly’ behaviour. His muffled swear made her change her mind. She didn’t want to sacrifice her green curry to principle.

She turned the key and pushed the door open for him to enter. He laid his burden on the ground by the coat rack and began untying his shoes. She shook her head as she toed off her heels and grabbed the food. As she made her way to the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder and saw him struggling with his wet shoes laces. “You should have let me carry the food, Harm.” Before he could protest, she added, “don’t move. I’ll get you a towel. No point in you getting water all over the place.”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” she put the food on the kitchen counter and made her way to his linen closet that was more of a supply closet/equipment cupboard/linen closet. She saw her gym bag lying on the floor of the multifunctional space and grabbed it along with a towel.

“I thought I had left my gym stuff here after our last workout together,” she threw him the towel. He was still struggling with his shoelaces so the towel hit him in the head. He looked up at her, surprised by the onslaught.

“Oops, sorry.” She knew she did not in the least bit look sorry. “Just testing your amazing pilot instincts.”

He laughed and turned his gaze to the gym bag she was holding. “I meant to return that to you. Kept on forgetting.”

“Not a problem. I’m going to change in your room.” She could feel that water soaking through her uniform. What a hassle, she hoped it would dry enough to take home with her if she hung it up now. “The umbrella was little help with all that wind. I’m all wet.”

He quickly turned his attention back to his shoelaces. “Make yourself at home, Mac.”

---------------------------

She emerged from his bedroom, much more comfortable and dry, and headed to the front entrance where he was hanging up his uniform jacket. Their covers and briefcases were neatly arranged by the door. She noted, with no small degree of exasperation, that he was trying to straighten the sleeves of his jacket. She was starving! Time to get him to focus on more important things, like dinner. She put a hand on his arm and pushed him towards the bedroom. “Go change. The food will get cold.”

He eyed her in amusement. “In other words you’re hungry.”

“That’s what I just said. And you want to write a book on avoiding domestic turbulence.”

He rolled his eyes as he went to change. “Don’t remind me. I still have to face the whole three-ring circus tomorrow.” He raised his voice as he entered his room. “By the end of the meeting this afternoon, the mother was asking me to intercede on her behalf.” She laughed and headed to the kitchen. Might as well start getting things ready for dinner. She removed two placemats from a drawer and placed them on his kitchen counter, by the barstools. His muffled voice came from the bedroom. “Think I could get my uniform laced with asbestos to keep from going up in flames when my client and Graves meet again?” She laughed at his silliness. “As a safety precaution...” She practically jumped when these last words came from right behind her. She turned to see Harm standing smugly behind her. “Skittish, marine?”

She ignored him and turned to open the take-out bags. “I’m starving. The food smells wonderful.”

“It was a nice place. Maybe we could go and eat in next time.” He opened the fridge door, “water? Or I have some orange juice. And some green tea.”

“Maybe.” She decided that if she enjoyed the food she would fight tooth and nail to keep them from eating in the restaurant. One disgruntled cook in a three-block radius from his house was enough. “Water is fine, thanks. And asbestos is unnecessary. Maybe you should just take your client’s word on the nature of his and Graves’ relationship.”

“They are not ‘just friends’, Mac.” He said this in a tone that implied her thinking otherwise was nothing short of delusional. He moved around her to reach for some plates from the cabinet and paused to watch her remove the containers from the take-out bag. “They were kidding themselves, for some reason. His family would be my guess. You should have seen the way his mom was glaring at Linda Graves. He had better be worth it for all the crap she’ll have to go through with the in-laws.” He eyed the empty bag, “They forgot the chilli sauce and chopsticks. I think I may have some around here, somewhere.”

She made a point of rolling her eyes at him before turning to continue rummaging through his cupboards for chilli sauce. “Maybe they are ‘kidding themselves’ right now.” She mimicked his tone in that way she knew annoyed him. It was his turn to roll his eyes as he started removing the lids from the food containers. She ignored his reaction.

“I’m not saying they always will be, Harm.” She found the sauce behind a bottle of Worcestershire sauce and reached to grab it in triumph. “Some people aren’t meant to be only friends,” she continued speaking as she moved to his drawers to dig out chopsticks. “Just like us.” Her brain registered the words, oddly enough, after she had said them. She froze, one hand on the drawer handle, the other deep in his cutlery drawer.

Where the hell did that come from?

Sure, there were moments just like this when she and Harm would spend an evening or afternoon, or even have lunch together and she would think that there was so much potential in their relationship. But he never seemed inclined to take things anywhere beyond friendship. She thought she knew enough about him to know that he didn’t just rush into such life altering situations blindly. A dark room full of criminals wielding guns with no exits and a ticking bomb: yes. A serious relationship: no. So she didn’t give too much thought to what exactly went on his head and how long she would have to wait to find out. In fact, she generally avoided the subject. On hindsight, that may not have been such a wise decision if it got her blurting out deeply held truths to him in casual conversation. What was she thinking? Surely hours of therapy to work out her issues about their non-relationship relationship would be better than just dropping a comment like that. She could imagine their friendship lying in a shattered heap on the floor between them, irreparably damaged by her careless wielding of her stupid dreams.

Now what? She did not know where to look. She still hadn’t moved. Maybe he would forget she was there if she remained really really still. Right, Mac, that’s very likely to happen. He was standing right next to her. He was probably staring at her with that deer-who-hasn’t-eaten-in-two-days-because-he-lost-his-entire-herd-and-is-now-stuck-in-the-headlights look she had come to hate. He was skittish, and she was prodding him with a really big electrified pole. Stupid…Wait. She straightened herself and removed her hands from his drawer. She was a marine. She squared her shoulders. She didn’t go through boot camp and years of being treated like something less than a human being by the men around her just to sit here and cower in front of Harm of all people. Suck it up. She slowly lifted her eyes to his, trying to think of some way to lighten the situation. Or at least locate the nearest exit.

What she saw when her eyes reached his face surprised her. He was definitely shocked at her admission. Or was it more of a slip of the tongue. Well, she didn’t know what it was. If she did, she probably wouldn’t have said it in the first place. But she would have bet her pension that there was something else in his eyes, too.

She knew this look almost as well as the dear-in-headlights look, although she did not witness this one as often. It was that one she sometimes caught from the corner of her eye, when either he thought she was not paying attention to him, or he was not paying attention to himself. She had wondered what it meant, that soft gaze full of warmth and tenderness that disappeared as soon as she faced him, leaving no trace save a fleetingly sheepish look which he hastily buried under paperwork or dinner or casual conversation or whatever it was they were doing at the time. She would follow his lead and bury any nascent awareness that may have formed in the more delusional recesses of her mind. But this time he wasn’t looking away. Maybe her words had stunned him as much as they had her. She was hit with the sudden feeling that if she paid proper attention, something important would be revealed to her.

She watched in apprehensive anticipation as the surprise slowly faded from his face only to be replaced by that irrepressible grin of his. What could this mean? He was smiling at her, his eyes dancing with mischievousness and expectation and that warm flicker of affection that made her heart glow.

“Definitely not.” His words were a challenge and a promise.

A part of her thought she must have misheard him. The rest of her was preoccupied with the magnetism of his gaze. His look held such wonder. Like he was seeing her for the first time. Like he was reacquainting himself with a lost memory. She could feel all those wishes she had hidden deep in her heart, under the harsh, heavy layers of reality suddenly begin to bubble. She did not know how to allow herself to hope. She could not remember the last time those soft, vague dreams she had secretly desired and only fleetingly allowed herself to imagine had crystallized and rooted themselves in reality. In her reality. But she knew he was making a declaration, she could feel that more than hear it. She would be an idiot to ignore it. She could face a roomful of terrorists, a ticking bomb and no exit just as well as he could, if not better. And if he could make a veiled declaration, she could match it. In fact, she could up the ante.

She fortified herself with whatever courage she could find. “So, where does that leave us?” His eyes sparkled at her reply.

It seemed to her that at this precise moment – her eyes riveted on his, her heart pounding, her palms sweating – the universe suddenly shifted axes and, for this one moment, revolved solely around them. Around the conversation that would change her, him, them, everything. Around the small fountain of hope that was slowly pulsing its way through her and erupting in small, tingling bursts. She could feel the long repressed hope build momentum, course through her and ratchet up her adrenaline until the very blood in her body was humming. She had forgotten this feeling. She decided that she liked it. She wondered if it were possible for time to slow to the point where every breath took on the weight of eternity. She waited for his answer.

“In a better place, Mac.” His smile only brightened and the affection in his eyes deepened as he brought a finger to slowly trace the line of her cheek.

She felt a smile spread on her face of its own volition. The hope that was reviving parts of her she had forgotten existed and feelings she had forgotten she had, had suddenly transformed into thick white streaks of elation she could feel shooting through her like rays of some impossibly bright light. It surprised her that he could see her, that she wasn’t blinding him.

They were standing by the cabinets in his kitchen, staring at each other and smiling, unmoving except for his finger which was still reverently tracing the contours of her face. Her smile widened as joy zinged through her like lightening in the desert sky. They had known each other for so long, but she doubted they had ever paid as much attention to each other at the same time and so openly. She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. He raised his eyebrow in question. It was a familiar gesture, one he had directed at her countless times, and yet it was so different. There was a hint of flirtatiousness that she had never been on the receiving end of before. It made her forget about pigeons and garages and the rain.

“Show me.” She let her eyes wander over his face, trace the strong line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips. She looked him in the eyes and fingered the collar of his t-shirt, “show me.”

She watched in rapt anticipation as he took a measured step closer to her. She could feel the heat emanating from his body; she could feel it sear her palms through his t-shirt as she laid her hands on his chest. He placed one hand under her chin and the other hand captured hers briefly before he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body so close to his she thought that perhaps their clothes were the only things that were keeping them from melting into each other. The blood was rushing through her veins with such force that all she could hear was her own heartbeat and all she could feel was his heartbeat under her palm. He lowered his head and she raised hers to meet him. The kiss they shared was soft and slow and so gently passionate that it aroused her in a way no single kiss ever had. He pulled away from her and raised his eyebrow once again in that old yet new way.

She gently rubbed her palms up and down the front of his t-shirt, over his chest, his stomach, his shoulders. She wanted so badly to run her hands under his t-shirt. She wanted him so badly, to feel his heart beat against her heart, his skin caress her skin, his sweat-slicked body move over and under and inside hers. She felt his knuckles from one hand trace her lower spine as the other caressed her face and the column of her neck. She could do nothing but nod and whisper his words back to him, “In a much better place.”

He smiled at her, a smile full of happiness and warmth and a desire so heavy she could feel it pulse deep inside her. She laid her head against his chest and tried to collect herself.

“Mac.”

She reluctantly pulled away and lifted her gaze to his, questioning.

“Have dinner with me.”

Was he kidding? She looked around his shoulder at their now undoubtedly cold dinner. “I thought I was.”

“No. I mean, not like this.” He looked around the room nervously before aiming an impish grin at her. “A proper dinner. The kind where neither of us gets a wink of sleep the night before because we’re too nervous and excited. Where you spend all day deciding what to wear and I spend all day trying to figure out where to take you, what kind of flowers to buy you. The kind where I show up 15 minutes early and you’re ready 15 minutes early because we’re both so terrified of being late. Where I pull out your chair for you at the restaurant and you think I’m a true gentleman. Where we’re both too nervous to eat and try to make intelligent and funny conversation to impress the other. Where I forget all the punch lines to the jokes I rehearsed and you laugh anyway. Where I drop you home after and spend the whole elevator ride trying to decide if I can kiss you goodnight and then building up the nerve to give you the kiss. Where I spend the whole ride home trying to convince myself that if I call you the next day and ask you out again, you’ll say yes.” He was watching her throughout his speech, looking more nervous than she had ever seen him but trying valiantly to hide it under a mask of humour.

“Sounds horrible. I think I may have to turn you down.” He smiled at her remark and she was glad to see some of the tension leave his bearing. She wondered how their dating would affect their friendship. Did he really think it would be that awkward? Would it be?

“Let me try again,” he gave her the same smile he had earlier that afternoon at the office, when he offered her take-out and a ride to the garage. “Want to go out on a date, Mac? With me? Dinner and a drive?” He added an extra heaping of charm, “we’ll spend an evening together.”

She pretended to mull it over and feigned scepticism. “You don’t have plans, Don Juan?”

He smiled and ran his hands up and down her sides, from her hips to the curve of her waist. “Only if you say yes.”

“Alright. On one condition.” She grabbed his hands to still his caresses and looked at him, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Making demands already, Mackenzie?”

“Thank your client and his girlfriend for me.”

She saw the beginnings of a smile form on the corner of his lips and this time she didn’t fight the urge to kiss it into one of his full-fledged grins.