Infinite Loop

by Meghan O'Brien

CHAPTER ONE

Friday, May 10^th, 10:07 p.m.

"I hate goddamn straight bars," Regan grumbled, taking a long pull from her lukewarm bottle of beer and studiously avoiding the looks she knew she was receiving from her tablemates. She could hear twin sighs as both Adam and Dan reacted to the declaration that had quickly become her personal mantra for the evening.

"Yes, Regan," Dan rolled his eyes, "We're perfectly aware of your aversion to heterosexual mating grounds. Now be quiet." Regan glared at her dark-haired co-worker and he quirked a grin back at her, the warmth in his eyes taking the sting out of his words.

"Sorry," Regan muttered, unable to stop the sheepish expression that overtook her face as she realized just how annoying she must be to her friends that night. "I just feel a little out of place here... and it's never a good feeling to know that I have even less chance than usual of getting laid."

Adam's brown eyes scanned the surroundings and he focused on something just out of Regan's line of sight. "Oh, I don't know," he laughed, leaning forward and meeting Regan's eyes before returning his gaze to the area that had captured them earlier, "I'm not sure you'd have a problem getting laid if you really wanted it." He nodded his head slightly in the direction he was looking and Regan turned in her seat to see what he was talking about.

An attractive blond-haired man stood at the bar behind them, holding a bottle and staring intently back at her. When he saw that she was returning his gaze, he grinned and gestured slightly with his drink, nodding in her direction. She frowned and turned back around to face her co-workers, who were now laughing and poking her teasingly.

"Oh, please," Regan sighed, leaning her head back as she emptied the rest of her beer. Adam looked towards the rejected suitor and smirked.

"I think you just broke his heart," he smiled, punching her lightly on the arm. "Want another beer?" he asked as he stood up, weaving slightly under the influence of the alcohol he'd already consumed. Regan sighed.

"Might as well," she replied. Her eyes followed her tall friend as he lumbered towards the bar, easily cutting through the crowd of people who seemed to part in anticipation of his intimidating presence. She sighed again and looked around. Yeah, out of place is right.

The bar was filled with people, the men cocky and flirtatious and of no interest whatsoever to Regan, the women impeccably dressed and made up, far more feminine and eager than her. Regan looked down at herself and smirked. Wearing baggy carpenter jeans and a maroon Atari t-shirt, she definitely looked the odd one out in this venue. She knew her short auburn hair and black wire-rimmed glasses only completed the image of the somewhat boyish computer nerd that she knew she projected and that this bar certainly accentuated.

"Wow," she suddenly heard Dan mutter and she broke out of her reverie to follow his rapt gaze across the bar towards a group of dancing people.

At first she wasn't sure what had caught his attention, but then the dancers shifted slightly and at once she saw the object of her co-worker's appreciation. A woman walked confidently between the moving bodies, seemingly straight towards them. Regan's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the woman, who was, she decided, likely the most beautiful person she'd ever laid eyes upon. Dark, thick hair shone in the low light of the bar, curling under slightly at the ends, coming to just below the woman's ears. A well-defined eyebrow was raised slightly in a look of confident amusement and perfect lips curled into a small grin which Regan swore, for a moment, was directed solely at her.

The woman moved across the bar with a feline grace that sent a flood of heat throughout Regan's body, causing her to squirm a little in her chair and swallow convulsively. Willing her body to stop reacting to what she so obviously would never have, she wondered idly what color the intense eyes that gazed in her direction were. If they're blue, I'd be hers forever. Regan let her own eyes roam appreciatively over the muscular, yet unmistakably feminine, body that was complemented by army green corduroy pants and a black tank top. Who am I kidding? I'd be hers forever no matter what color her eyes are.

Regan was distracted from her thoughts by the sudden realization that the gorgeous woman at whom she'd been unabashedly staring was, as she had earlier mused, heading straight towards their table. She shook her head and suddenly turned around to face Dan, who was still tracking the movement of the approaching woman with lustful eyes. She kicked him sharply under the table.

"Jesus," he winced, tearing his eyes away from the vision behind them and fixing them grumpily on his companion. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Regan frowned, feeling surlier than ever at the thought that the incredible woman at whom they'd both been staring was not only totally unavailable to her but also that she was about to come hit on her admittedly attractive co-worker. "I hate goddamn straight bars," she grumbled again. "Do you see now what torture this all is?" She squirmed uncomfortably, grimacing at the knowledge that her now out-of-control libido would not be sated tonight. At least not by anyone but herself, she sighed internally.

Dan only grinned at her momentarily before raising his eyes and widening his grin. Regan sighed and raised her own eyes to the woman who was now standing next to their table, returning Dan's smile.

"Hey," the dark-haired woman said loudly, her deep voice carrying easily over the pounding music that filled the bar. She shifted her gaze from Dan to Regan, meeting the redhead's eyes and, Regan swore, widening her grin as she looked at her. Blue, Regan confirmed, unable to stop the soft sigh that escaped her lips. For a moment their eyes locked and Regan forgot that she was in a straight bar, miserable, and the only thing she was aware of was a feeling of connection, and heat, and pure desire. It was so intense and overwhelming that she imagined the other woman had to feel it as well. Yeah, you wish. She smiled back up at the woman.

"Hey, yourself," Regan said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. God, don't get nervous and act like an idiot, she silently admonished herself, it's not like there's a good reason to be intimidated by a straight woman. Beautiful or not.

"How're you doing?" Dan suddenly asked, tearing blue eyes from Regan's green eyes and causing Regan to shoot what she hoped was a subtly dirty look at her friend.

"I'm okay," the woman said, glancing quickly at Regan and then looking back again at Dan. "Actually, I'm hoping to be a little better..."

Regan sighed and reached out to fiddle with her empty beer bottle, suddenly wishing that Adam would return with her refill. She was certain she could better withstand the pure agony of watching one of her best friends get picked up by a woman she'd give her right leg to be with if only she were slightly more intoxicated.

"Oh, yeah?" Dan smiled flirtatiously. Regan rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," the dark-haired woman suddenly seemed a little nervous and she shifted slightly on her feet. "Look, I don't know the situation here and I apologize if I'm out of line..."

"We're not together," Dan said quickly. Regan snorted a little, shaking her head. I'll say. She forced herself to look up at the stranger and smile.

"Oh, great," the dark-haired woman smiled easily as she visibly relaxed. "In that case," she turned to look at Regan warmly, "do you want to dance?"

If Regan hadn't been so shocked at the invitation herself, she would have laughed out loud at the look of surprise and utter disappointment on her friend's face. As it was, she could only manage to open and close her mouth a couple of times, unable to produce the affirmative response she so desperately wanted to give. She exchanged a flustered look with her embarrassed tablemate, frustrated at being caught so off-guard.

The dark-haired woman suddenly cleared her throat and looked a little hesitant. "I'm sorry," she said, "I hope I didn't offend you. I don't normally approach women in straight bars... I mean... I don't normally even come to straight bars. But my friends," she gestured to a table across the bar, where Regan could see a small group of women watching them with interest, "asked me to come with them and I've been feeling a little miserable all night. I noticed you and thought that maybe you also looked a little miserable... and definitely very cute... and so I thought I'd come and see if maybe you were in a similar predicament. I apologize if-"

Regan forced herself to calm down when she realized that her surprise was being misinterpreted as discomfort, not wanting the woman to turn around and walk away. Come on, Regan... don't fuck this one up. She held up her hand and smiled, "As a matter of fact, we are in the same predicament. And I'd love to dance..."

"Mel," the dark-haired woman grinned, reaching out to take Regan's hand. Regan's breath caught in her throat, stifling her reply, as she felt Mel's strong, warm hand close over her own. For a moment the noise of the bar, the bodies moving around their table, even Dan, watching the two women in rapt fascination, faded from her consciousness and all she was aware of was the feel of Mel's soft skin on her own. Her entire body thrummed with an electric feeling that seemed to originate in her hand, the point of connection with the dark-haired woman, where it quickly spread outward, downward, and finally concentrated squarely between her legs. Regan stared into intense blue eyes that seemed to darken even as she contended with the unexpected flood of feelings the innocent touch produced. Get a grip, Regan...

Not releasing the hand that held her own, she managed a shaky smile. "Regan," she murmured.

Mel hesitated, staring brazenly into Regan's eyes. The redhead was almost sure she was going to have to drop her gaze to escape the intensity of the blue fire that held her, when suddenly the tension of the moment was relieved by the slightly lopsided grin that overtook the dark woman's face. "Well, Regan," she said, pulling gently on the hand she still held in her own and helping the other woman to her feet. "Shall we?"

Regan stood without a word, grinning at Mel and then, as Mel turned away to lead them to the crowded dance floor, glancing backwards to grin at Dan, who glared back at her playfully. She barely noticed Adam standing next to the table, having returned with two bottles of beer, though she managed a dazed grin in his direction as well.

Mel led them to an open spot on the nearly full dance floor, amidst rhythmically moving bodies, and turned around without releasing Regan's hand. After a moment of silent appraisal, she nodded at Regan's shirt and said, "Are you really an Atari fan?"

"Yeah," Regan answered, more than a little surprised to be discussing antique game consoles with the beautiful woman, "I actually have a 400 that I still play." The moment the words left her mouth she felt her face flush at the realization that she was exposing herself as nothing more than a pathetic geek. So smooth with the ladies, she thought to herself as she waited for the inevitable look of condescension she received from most women with whom she shared her interests. She was shocked when Mel rewarded her with a wide grin.

"I remember playing ŒShamus' as a kid... that was an awesome game," Mel laughed and squeezed Regan's hand gently.

Oh my God, Regan thought dreamily, I've found her. The perfect woman.

At that moment a new song began thumping through the bar's sound system, bringing the people around them to life and working itself through Regan's temporary stupor. For a moment she reflected that she would normally be terrified in this situation; she didn't often dance, and certainly not out of her element like this. However, the recent conversation emboldened her and she felt strangely at ease in the bar, and with this woman. She smiled again, a bright, genuine smile, and started moving her body to the beat of the music.

Regan drifted closer to Mel as she started to dance, finally reaching over to take the dark-haired woman's other hand and to pull her lean, muscular body against her own. She coaxed Mel into motion with the movement of her hips; the insistent pressing of her belly against Mel's, and the look of playful sensuality on her still flushed face. Both women gave their bodies over to the music blissfully; working into an easy rhythm with one another, losing themselves in their unspoken communication that separated them from everyone else in the room.

Regan wasn't exactly sure how long they danced... one song seemed to flow into the next and her body unconsciously transitioned from one beat to another. All she was aware of was Mel's hands on her waist, on her stomach. Mel's hips pressing into her bottom, then against her own. Mel's eyes, devouring her in their hunger, so bright blue in their intensity. Regan was only dimly aware of the attention they were attracting, lost as they were in their mutual seduction of one another, and she only started to come back to herself when realized how tired she was becoming. And how wet, she thought dimly. Regan let out a shaky breath as she realized just how aroused dancing with Mel had made her. If I don't find something to lean against, I'm going to fall down.

When the song ended a few moments later, Regan leaned into Mel slightly. "I think I need to sit for a little while. Can I buy you a drink?"

Mel smiled and Regan watched in fascination as full lips slowly parted. The music began thumping again and cut off the beginning of Mel's reply. Smiling, the dark-haired woman moved closer to Regan's warm body, pressing the whole length of her front against her. Regan gasped as she felt the hardness of Mel's cotton-covered nipples brush lightly against her own. She felt rather than saw Mel's smile as lips pressed against her neck and then slid up to brush against her ear.

"I was going to say that a drink sounds great," Mel whispered, eliciting an excited shudder from the smaller woman in her arms. Unable to manage a reply and feeling dangerously short of breath, Regan simply smiled and nodded as she turned and walked towards the bar, pulling Mel behind her by their entwined hands.

Regan scowled slightly as she walked, her back to Mel, frustrated with her awkwardness around women. She couldn't remember the last time she'd met someone who'd elicited such a strong response from her, and she simply knew she was going to blow it. Despite the cocky attitude she displayed when bantering with co-workers and other friends, she was relatively inexperienced in the art of seduction and the practice of relationships. She prayed she could manage to appear interesting and sane enough to have a chance to spend some time with this woman. Quality time, she chuckled internally, and then externally, as she sensed the leer that had come, unbidden, to take over her face.

She was still chuckling when she turned around to face Mel at the bar, and she felt herself relax a little as Mel reacted to her mirth with a wide grin that started at her lips and lit up her blue eyes. "What are you having?" Regan shouted over the still thumping music.

"Just a Coke," Mel answered. "I drove".

Regan turned around and ordered a Coke for her companion and a Long Island Iced Tea for herself. I think I'm going to need it. And with any luck, she'll be my designated driver, anyway.

"I think there's a room in the back where we might actually be able to hear each other," Regan yelled as she handed Mel her Coke after receiving it from the bartender. She picked up her own drink and tossed a couple bills on the bar.

"Lead the way," Mel answered, leaning over to capture a straw between lush, full lips and taking a slow swallow of her drink. Regan swore she could feel all the blood rushing from her head to her painfully awakened lower body. Oh, to be a straw.

Finding herself at a loss for words once more, she again smiled and nodded as she turned and started walking towards the smaller poolroom in the back of the bar. She scowled a little harder than she had the last time. She needed to think of some way to appear cool and calm and irresistibly sexy, and fast. Smiling and nodding was going to get tired quickly.

Regan managed to find a small table in the corner of a room crowded with a couple pool tables and a dozen drinking patrons. Sitting down gratefully, she willed herself to breath and focus on the beautiful woman taking the seat across from her. Mel set her glass down on the tabletop and smiled easily at the redhead. "So what's a nice girl like yourself doing in a place like this?"

Regan laughed, appreciative of the fact that the dark-haired woman had taken the lead. "Straight co-workers. They wanted to go to the bar, for some odd reason, and I was the only one who wanted to be surrounded by dykes. Majority rules, I guess."

"Not a bar person?" Mel asked.

"Not usually," Regan admitted. "I don't think I do very well in the bar environment. It tends to just highlight how out of place I am in these situations."

"I can assure you that you're doing just fine right now. In fact, you're probably the most compelling reason I've ever seen to hang out at a straight bar," Mel cocked an eyebrow. Regan laughed at her companion's playful flirtatiousness.

"Just probably, huh?" Regan took a sip of her own drink, never dropping her eyes from the blue orbs shining at her across the table. She felt herself drawing from some deeply buried wellspring of confidence that seemed to surface as a result of the dark-haired woman's reassurance.

"Okay, definitely," Mel chuckled, suddenly reaching across the table to take Regan's smaller hand in her own. "In fact, I think you're absolutely adorable".

Regan grinned then, unable to stop herself or even care about how goofy she must look, as she felt most of her tension melt away under warm eyes and even warmer skin. She interlaced her fingers with Mel's and squeezed the other woman's hand. "Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls you pick up in straight bars."

Mel laughed and rubbed her thumb over Regan's knuckle. "So those guys were your co-workers. What do you do?"

"I'm a software developer," Regan answered. "This computer nerd visage isn't just a fashion statement."

"Wow," Mel blinked, and Regan was surprised to see honest admiration in her eyes. "That's really impressive. I took a first-level programming course in college, but it never really clicked for me. I was always amazed by the people who understood that stuff."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice. While my peers were out partying in college, I was writing little shareware programs to pay my way through school," Regan said, starting to feel a little uncomfortable about revealing her decidedly boring past.

"Where'd you learn?" Mel asked, continuing to rub her thumb in distracting patterns over Regan's hand.

Regan paused as she considered that Mel seemed to be genuinely interested in the conversation. She wasn't used to finding any kind of reception to her attempts to talk about her most passionate interests, and thus had suppressed her instinct to talk about computers and video games around women she was trying to impress for so long, that she worried any encouragement from Mel would unleash a torrent of chatter from herself that would surely scare her away.

"I taught myself in high school," Regan answered. "I spent a lot of time in my head during my formative years. Do you like computers?"

"Actually, I love computers. I don't know much about the inner workings of software or anything, and I'm baffled if it stops working, but I have a kind of ignorant fascination with them. They're not a big part of my job, though, so I haven't had the time or motivation to better acquaint myself with the infernal machines."

Maybe she really is the perfect woman, Regan thought, satisfied beyond all reason by the mere fact that Mel liked computers. Most of the women she'd flirted with or dated had a natural dislike for or, almost worse, disinterest in technology and had treated Regan's own obsession with bemused indifference. Liking computers despite admitted ignorance about them has definite potential.

"What do you do?" Regan asked, eager to divert attention away from herself for the moment.

"I'm a cop," Mel answered a bit shortly. Regan cleared her throat when it was obvious no further information was forthcoming.

"If you tell me you've got the uniform and the handcuffs and all that jazz, you'll become my personal sexual fantasy." Regan startled herself with her boldness and took another quick sip of her rapidly disappearing drink to cover her surprise. Maybe this intoxication idea isn't that great.

"Oh," Mel grinned seductively, "a girl who appreciates the usefulness of handcuffs?"

"So do you like being a cop?" Regan asked, fighting valiantly against the urge to flush under the heat of the dark-haired woman's gaze. Mel chuckled a little at her obvious attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"I guess so," she answered after a moment. "My dad was a cop. So was my uncle. I didn't really think about doing anything else, from the time I was a kid."

Regan sensed a definite lack of enthusiasm from her partner and squeezed her hand again. "Well, I'm also impressed. I don't think I could do it... it must be tough."

"Yeah," Mel answered, eyes darkening, "sometimes."

Great, Regan. Maybe now you can start talking about nuclear warfare to brighten the mood a little. She decided that a change of subject was in order. "So you never told me what you're doing in so foreign a venue as this."

Mel's eyes brightened as she gratefully accepted the new topic. "My college roommate is getting married in a few weeks. She wanted to get together with some of her girlfriends before the big event. I think we're supposed to be having fun here. To be honest, this is highly unusual for me."

"Well, then, it must be some kind of fate," Regan answered, growing more pleased with the pleasantly numb feeling floating through her head. She giggled and tossed back the rest of her drink in two big swallows. She managed to only grimace slightly at the sensation of the alcohol burning its way down her throat.

"Hey, now," Mel said gently, running impossibly soft fingertips up Regan's outstretched arm. "You're not going to get drunk on me here, are you?"

"Ugh," Regan grunted, scrunching her face up a little in disgust as the taste of the alcohol finally registered in her brain. "No, I think I've hit that point where I realize how much I honestly dislike drinking."

"So why do it?" Mel asked. She seemed to be concentrating harder on moving her fingers up and down Regan's arm, and then up and over her exposed neck, than on listening for the answer to her question.

"Bad bar habit. I'll be honest, I'm a little nervous right now," Regan admitted. Though, she mused, she seemed to be feeling anything but nervous at the moment, watching strong fingers caressing her skin. In fact, she realized that what she felt right now was a powerful resurgence of the hot desire with which she'd been struggling ever since she'd seen Mel walking across the room towards Dan and herself earlier.

Rather than answer her Mel suddenly leaned forward, hand lightly gripping Regan's forearm, and pressed impossibly soft lips to her own. All thoughts of nervousness mysteriously forgotten, Regan returned the slow, easy kiss, disappointed when the sweet contact was broken after only a few moments.

"Please don't be nervous," Mel whispered into her ear, and then wrapped strong arms around the redhead, who returned the hug unthinkingly. Regan was perfectly aware of the thrill of full breasts pressing against her own, of the firm suppleness of Mel's body, but her prevailing thought was of the unexpected tenderness of this unusual gesture. She pulled back from the embrace and kissed Mel on the cheek.

"I'm guessing you don't have any problems finding dates, do you?" she teased, amused to see that it was Mel's turn to blush. "I'm not sure you could be any more charming if you tried."

Mel settled back into her chair and took another small sip of her Coke. "Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet," she smirked, waggling her eyebrows in a comically lascivious fashion. Regan leaned forward across the table, feeling strangely at ease with their light banter. A hand on her shoulder and a deep voice suddenly next to her stopped her reply.

"Hey, Regan... um, can I talk to you for a minute?" Regan looked up at Adam and idly wondered how long she and Mel had been dancing and talking.

"Sure," she said, looking over at Mel and smiling apologetically. "I'll be right back," she promised, and stood up to follow Adam to a corner out of earshot.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Regan," Adam said, smiling a little drunkenly, "but Dan and I were kind of thinking of leaving. We're not having nearly the luck you are, and I think Dan was hoping to get up early to start working on his game, so..." Adam left his thought unfinished and shifted uncomfortably.

"And me without a designated driver..." Regan supplied. She smiled when Adam nodded his head sheepishly.

"Unless you do have one," he smirked, gesturing towards Mel, who was looking relaxed and achingly sensual, leaning back in her chair and twirling her straw between lazily moving fingers. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by just making assumptions."

"I don't know," Regan murmured. She turned to look at the beautiful cop, who returned her longing gaze almost instinctively. "Can you give me a couple minutes?"

Regan didn't bother to wait for Adam's response. She turned and walked back to the table, eyes locked to Mel's the entire length of the trip, unwavering even as she sat back down in the chair next to her. Mel smiled and reached out to tuck an errant lock of auburn hair behind Regan's ear.

"Problem?" Mel asked.

"My friends are ready to call it a night. My designated driver is summoning me. For good reason," she nodded at her empty glass.

"Do you want to leave?"

"Not really," Regan admitted with a sheepish smile.

"Well, I can drive you home," Mel offered. A now-familiar lopsided grin appeared as she added, "That is if you think your friends will feel comfortable entrusting your virtue to me."

"I'm the guardian of my own virtue, lady, and I can assure you it's the least of my concerns," Regan winked, and laughed, feeling wonderfully relaxed and heady, considering the situation. She colored only slightly under Mel's approving look and then turned around to amble back over to her co-worker. She saw that Dan had joined Adam, both men failing miserably in their attempt to appear disinterested in her situation. She didn't bother to disguise the sunny grin on her face.

"I appreciate your concern, boys, but it seems I have a ride home this evening," Regan said. She bit back a laugh when Dan mock-scowled.

"Damn, Regan," he grumbled, "I have never in my life wanted to be a bespectacled little lesbian as strongly as I do at this moment."

Regan grinned. "I'll see you guys on Monday."

"Later," Dan said, giving her a good-natured slap on the back.

"Good luck," Adam leered drunkenly. "I promise to try and not fantasize too much about this later."

Regan punched the big man lightly on the arm. "You see that you don't, buddy."

Turning around, Regan carefully made her way back to the table where Mel sat and watched her with undisguised bemusement.

"Have I told you lately how absolutely darling you are?" Mel asked, chuckling a little as Regan sat back down in her chair in a thoroughly ungraceful manner.

"Not nearly enough," Regan replied. "Have I told you lately what an insufferable flirt you are?"

"You love it," Mel drawled, leaning forward and placing her elbow on the small table, then resting her chin on an upturned palm. "You just tell me you don't."

"Was I complaining?" Regan answered in as innocent a voice as she could muster. "I was just making sure you realized that all of your insufferable flirting was being noticed and appreciated."

Mel leaned back in her chair and let her head tip backwards slightly, rewarding the redhead with easy laughter. She crossed her arms across her chest and cocked her head slightly at Regan, who had a hard time not squirming under the cop's frank examination. After studying the redhead for a moment, Mel smiled and Regan felt her breath leave her body at the sight of the simple expression. This smile, this incredible smile that Mel now graced her with, was different from the others Regan had seen over the course of the evening. Not playfully flirtatious, not seductive, not even compassionate; this smile was something else entirely, open and genuine and deeply, deeply warm.

"You know, Regan, I really like you," Mel said, leaning over to take Regan's hand. "I really do."

Regan was surprised by the simple honesty of her words and wasn't quite certain how she should respond. She sensed that this wasn't something Mel said on a regular basis, and that there was something revelatory about the statement and the emotion behind it. She knew that she was feeling unusually comfortable with Mel; she sensed the same might be true for Mel with her, and she wondered if the admission, still hanging in the air between them, was indicative of that fact. She wanted desperately to answer, to assure Mel that she felt it, too, but she was terrified of misinterpreting and saying the wrong thing, of appearing too eager. Regan did what came naturally to her in these types of uncertain moments; she blushed.

"Thank you," she murmured. Mel cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. After a moment she seemed aware of her sudden vulnerability and Regan wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when the open expression on Mel's face was replaced by a more familiar lopsided grin.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Mel asked. Regan sighed gratefully at the interruption of her awkward response. She looked up at the dark woman, green eyes meeting blue, and saw her own desire and excitement reflected in the cerulean orbs.

"Definitely," Regan said. Mel stood up and offered her hand to Regan, who accepted it gratefully and got to her feet despite the distinct feeling that she'd lost all sensation in her legs.

"I've just got to go tell the people I'm with that we're leaving and we can-" Mel suddenly turned and smiled at Regan sheepishly. "Oh, shit... you're okay with riding on a motorcycle, right?"

Regan willed herself not to look as nervous as she suddenly felt. "Motorcycle?"

"Yeah, I rode my bike. Actually, I don't even have a car right now," Mel admitted. "I do have an extra helmet, though."

"Motorcycle," Regan repeated again. "Right. No problem." No problem.

*****

2:21 a.m.

Mel grinned when she felt Regan's arms wrap even more tightly around her waist in reaction to yet another sharply taken turn. In truth, she was doing her best to make the ride as safe and slow-paced as possible for the nervous redhead, but she couldn't resist leaning into her turns just a little more than was necessary. The full-body hug that her first turn had elicited from her companion had been all the motivation she needed to engage in such mischievous behavior and the feeling of soft breasts pressed against her back left her decidedly unrepentant.

"You okay?" she shouted, turning her head slightly to allow her voice to carry behind her.

"Just wake me when it's over," came the slightly muffled response. Mel laughed softly and suddenly felt a little bad for taking advantage of Regan's obvious discomfort. Okay, no more sharp turns, breasts or not.

"You're doing great, kiddo," she replied. Regan's hug acknowledging the compliment brought yet another smile to her face. Jesus, what's wrong with me? I can't remember the last time I smiled this much in one evening. Mel spent a few moments contorting her facial muscles into random, and most likely silly, expressions. I think my face even hurts.

The last thing Mel would have expected from this evening was the lovely redhead on the back of her bike clinging to her for dear life. When Jane had asked her to attend a little "girls' night out" in celebration of her upcoming wedding, Mel had wanted desperately to beg off under cover of some manufactured excuse. The idea of spending the evening with a group of women she barely knew, save the bride-to-be, had seemed almost unthinkably horrible, the entire situation made worse only by the fact that the get-together would take place in an unremarkable straight bar. In the end, she had accepted the invitation only because Jane was the closest thing to a friend she had, even if they only spoke on odd occasions and never in any great depth.

The first hour at the bar had felt like pure torture to the dark-haired cop. She half-listened to the giggling conversation of the women around her and let her eyes wander over the faces and bodies crowding the smoky bar. Every so often her nose would wrinkle slightly in unconscious reaction to the furiously traded anecdotes about Carrie's boyfriend, Lana's husband, Lindsey's one-night stand. This sucks, she decided, then chuckled unthinkingly as the women around her howled in laughter in reaction to some comment about the one-night stand's stamina. I need some kind of distraction from this misery.

And that was when she first noticed the redheaded woman across the room, drinking a bottle of beer and looking nearly as miserable as she felt. She studied the woman carefully, taking in baggy blue jeans, a snug t-shirt, and the frustrated, almost disinterested, attitude. Maybe... The woman's face was suddenly fully revealed as she turned to look at something behind her, nearly in Mel's direction. Mel followed her gaze to see a decently good-looking guy standing at the bar, obviously cruising the woman. Mel snorted lightly as she watched the redhead frown and turn back to her buddies, who had started laughing and teasing her. Yes, maybe, she decided.

This is my chance to salvage the evening, Mel remembered thinking. She had quickly turned her attention back to her tablemates and waited for a pause in their animated conversation.

"Ladies, if you'll excuse me," she interrupted after a moment, "I think I've found a potential dance partner." She stood up then, ignoring three shocked expressions and meeting Jane's knowing gaze.

"Go get Œem, tiger," Jane smirked.

Go get Œem, tiger. How many times had Jane said that to her in college, an encouraging send-off as Mel embarked on yet another conquest? How many times had she repeated that same thought in her head, thoroughly amused, before engaging in another in a string of casual, fleeting encounters? Her actions tonight had been typical enough, she acknowledged, even if the circumstances had been a bit atypical.

She had to admit that Regan was probably not someone she would have approached had she been in one of her regular bars. In fact, she seemed radically different from the women Mel usually picked up. She was certainly attractive; her short, curly auburn hair framed a delicately featured face and green eyes that glowed with obvious intelligence behind flattering wire-rimmed glasses. However, her personality had taken Mel by surprise. The programmer's shyness had been immediately apparent to Mel and it had charmed her in some odd way.

Given that, she'd been amazed and very, very aroused when they had started to dance. Regan's shyness and Mel's practiced coolness had all but disappeared amidst the seductive haze of the energy that had flowed between them, leaving Mel breathless and uncertain of where she stopped and the redhead began. Their dancing had left her pulsing with sexual desire and she'd decided at that moment that she wanted to take the smaller woman home with her that evening.

But then... And then there was their conversation over drinks, when Mel had become aware again of the shyness, the underlying insecurity, that seemed in such contrast to the wildly seductive dancer she'd held only moments earlier. Regan was a study in contradictions, Mel decided. She was sexy, though blatantly unaware of her own appeal. She was blushing one moment and bantering flirtatiously the next. She projected both tremendous intelligence and awkward nervousness. Most unusual, and appealing, was her absolute candor in revealing her feelings and anxieties. She was exhilaratingly real. She was, as Mel had earlier told her, absolutely adorable.

I do like her. Mel was unfamiliar with the feelings she'd so quickly developed for the programmer. She felt genuine interest, easy affection, palpable chemistry, and a deep, pulling sense of protectiveness, of all things. What the hell am I doing?

Mel suddenly recognized the upcoming street as Regan's and she made a final turn, slowing down rapidly as they entered the subdivision.

"It's the third house on the left," Regan said. "Thank God in heaven."

Mel laughed out loud at the relief evident in Regan's voice. She steered her Harley into the indicated driveway, slowing the bike to a halt next to a small Colonial-style house. Lowering the kickstand gently, she eased herself off the bike and turned to face Regan, who was still sitting on the seat, eyes closed and face even paler than normal.

"Hey, you made it," Mel advised, reaching out to brush the back of her hand across a cool cheek. God, I can't stop touching her. Regan opened clear green eyes and stared at her for a moment.

"So I've decided that maybe motorcycles should remain safely within the realm of my lurid sexual fantasies." She managed a shaky smile.

Mel grinned. "Oh, come on... you're going to tell me that you didn't think that was at least a little fun?"

Regan appeared to consider the question carefully. "If by Œfun' you mean Œstarkly terrifying', then, yeah, maybe."

"Motorcycles are fun," Mel insisted. Regan seemed to have calmed down a bit and she started moving as if to dismount the bike, but Mel stopped her motion with a firm hand on her chest. "Let me show you."

Mel carefully reclaimed her seat in front of the redhead, this time settling so she faced the rear of the motorcycle. Balancing herself and the bike on firmly planted feet, she reached forward and gently raised Regan's legs, rearranging their positions until the programmer's thighs were draped over her own and she nearly straddled the slightly taller cop.

Mel smiled seductively at Regan, whose face was flushed with arousal; lips parted unconsciously, eyes slightly dazed. She wrapped her arms around the soft body in front of her, pulling Regan towards her even as she leaned into the smaller woman. "You were saying something about lurid sexual fantasies?"

Rather than respond, Regan closed the rest of the distance between their bodies, wrapping eager arms around Mel's waist and meeting her lips in a gentle kiss. Mel deepened the kiss almost instantly, running her tongue along a full lower lip and then slipping it inside a warm mouth as her silent request was granted. She could feel her heart pounding furiously, and confident hands that roamed the curves in front of her confirmed that Regan was similarly reactive to their intimate exploration. How can first kisses feel this perfect? Mel wondered idly before the softness of the tongue that caressed her own erased all further thought.

Mel could feel her libido rapidly spinning out of control as Regan's hands traced dizzying patterns over her shoulders and down her back. Her own hands explored soft hips and the gentle swell of a breast. She captured a swollen lower lip between lightly closed teeth and tugged a little, unleashing a moan from Regan that nearly made her come right there. Jesus... if we don't slow down she'll bring me off right in her driveway.

It was only with considerable effort that Mel pulled away from Regan, breaking their kiss and forcing herself to tamp down her growing arousal. The cop was unable to suppress her soft chuckle at the sight of the redhead, eyes closed and lips parted slightly, her breath ragged and fast.

"I love motorcycles," Regan breathed. She opened her eyes and appeared to struggle to focus on the woman in front of her. "And for the record, I think that just outdid any lurid fantasy I've ever had."

Mel reached her hand forward and used her thumb to trace one of Regan's eyebrows. She smiled as she did so and noticed the unveiled tenderness in the green eyes that captured her in their warmth. All of a sudden the rush of feelings running through her body became just a little too intense, the scene a little too intimate, and she felt herself withdraw her mind even as she physically withdrew her hand from Regan's face. Jesus.

If Regan noticed her sudden reluctance, she didn't let Mel know. The programmer cleared her throat a little before dropping her eyes, then raising them to direct a longing gaze at the now slightly flustered cop. "I'd like to invite you inside, but..."

Mel swallowed a little, still feeling overwhelmed by the unexpected feelings that had been aroused in her. "But what?"

"But... what would you say if I said I'd really like for this to be something more than a one-night stand? I mean..." Regan's flush was visible in the bright moonlight and Mel felt a flood of tenderness return to her heart unbidden. "I mean," Regan took a breath, "I'd like for this to not just be a one-night stand. I'm not asking for a commitment or anything, I'm... I'm just saying that I'd really like to see you again... after tonight."

For a moment Mel just sat there, stunned. A sudden wave of fear paralyzed her and all she could do was silently regard the increasingly nervous redhead, who looked very much like she wanted to crawl away somewhere. At the sight of Regan's obvious discomfort, Mel dimly realized that she'd been asked a question.

"I'd say that we'd better stop for tonight, then," she heard herself saying. Her voice sounded eerily disembodied and hollow. Yes, stop, exactly.

"Look, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to fuck up a wonderful evening," Regan replied, voice shaking slightly. "I think I'm just a little... just forget what I said, okay?" Mel nearly flinched at the painfully exposed vulnerability in front of her; at the realization of the trust and honesty it had taken for Regan to lay herself bare, and at the knowledge that her fears were compelling her to betray that trust that had been so freely given.

It would indeed be a betrayal, she knew, because she could no longer deny that she was interested in the redhead, far more interested than she should be. Despite years of instinct that urged her to keep everyone at a distance, she desperately wanted to know this woman, to spend time with her. Maybe...

"Hey," Mel said, her voice softening, "I said that we'd better stop for tonight, okay? If..." she paused, uncertain, "if this isn't just going to be a one-night stand, we probably shouldn't start it out like one."

Regan slowly raised her eyes to Mel's. "You don't have to... I mean, it's okay if you don't..."

"No, I mean it..." Mel wasn't certain she meant anything. "Why don't you give me your number? I'll... I'll call you, we can go get dinner somewhere..."

Regan stared at her and Mel dropped her eyes, feeling nervous and battered and very much like she needed to get out of there, to go somewhere where she could breath. After a moment she forced herself to look back up at Regan, feeling a shy smile form almost against her will just from the sight of her, so beautiful and intense and real. Oh, hell. She leaned over and pressed her lips lightly against Regan's eyebrow. "Give me your number," she whispered.

"Okay," came the slightly tremulous response, "let me go inside and write it on something."

Mel pulled back and carefully stood up, reaching an arm out to help guide the redhead off the motorcycle. Regan walked cautiously to the side door of the house, leaving the cop to stare after her in nervous wonder. I want to call her. I know I shouldn't call her.

After a couple minutes, Mel heard Regan open the door to walk out of the house again and she shifted on her feet, straightening her clothes and trying to maintain a neutral expression that wouldn't betray her inner turmoil. She managed a small smile for Regan and felt the smile grow slightly as it was returned.

"Here. I wrote my home number on the back," Regan said quietly, handing her a thick rectangular piece of paper. Mel looked down and saw that it was Regan's business card, the letters visible in the moonlight. Regan O'Riley, Software Developer. She grinned out of pure reflex and looked at the redhead playfully.

"Regan O'Riley, huh?" Mel realized with some surprise that she probably hadn't known the last names of at least half the women she'd slept with. "That's very cute."

Regan scowled a little. "Hey, it wasn't so easy, growing up, being a little on the short side," she couldn't help but smile as she watched Mel appraise her 5'3" frame with obvious appreciation, "You wouldn't believe all the leprechaun jokes."

The pure silliness of that image, the intense emotions roiling around in her gut, and the still unsated desire that pounded through her veins all worked to create the almost hysterical laughter that overtook Mel in response to Regan's lament. She laughed harder than she could remember laughing in a long time, her giggles intensifying when she saw that Regan had joined in her outburst, the redhead's entire small frame convulsing with mirth. Mel folded her arms across her stomach, willing herself to calm down, feeling both crazy and blissful at the same time and in the most interesting way. After some concerted effort, she was able to calm herself until all that remained were slow, intermittent chuckles. Regan had also quieted, though she still wiped her teary eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Thanks," Mel suddenly said, taking Regan's hand, "I think I really needed that."

Regan grinned and stepped closer to Mel, squeezing her fingers and raising herself slightly to plant a light kiss on Mel's lips. "That did feel good. Tonight was really good. I had a surprisingly nice time... for a straight bar." She stepped back from Mel and smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Mel called softly, staring at Regan's retreating form until the woman disappeared inside her house. She realized that she still held Regan's business card in her hand. Glancing at it one more time, she took her wallet out of her back pocket and carefully slipped the paper into one of the plastic holders. Returning the wallet to her pocket, she shook her head a little and then went to her bike, steering it towards the street before settling onto it and putting on her helmet. As she started her bike and slowly guided it out of Regan's subdivision, she idly wondered if she would actually call the programmer. I hope so.

CHAPTER TWO

Wednesday, May 15^th, 12:16 p.m.

"Nancy called for you, Regan," Dan said, eyes never leaving his computer monitor, "Something about data changing randomly in her employee records."

Regan sighed. "Because data does that, if you don't watch it like a hawk."

"Apparently." Dan was obviously concentrating on something and didn't even glance at her when she collapsed into her desk chair with an irritated grunt. She glowered at her own screen a moment, the lines of code all but meaningless to her unfocused mind. You knew she wasn't going to call... it was obvious that you freaked her out.

Regan was as upset with herself for not being able to get Mel out of her mind as she was for having ruined what had been, at the time, one of the best evenings she ever remembered enjoying. Why did I insist on trying to make it into something more than it was? She had wanted to go to bed with the cop desperately, had wanted her with an intensity which had almost frightened her, and she could kick herself for having hoped that it could have been more than a casual encounter. And not for simply hoping it, but also for verbalizing that desire to Mel. It just felt so right.

"Something wrong, Regan?" Paul's voice caused her to start a little and she realized that she was scowling at nothing. She looked up at her project manager, now standing in the doorway of their group work area, and managed a smile far sunnier than she felt.

"No," she said. "Just thinking."

In her peripheral vision she noticed Adam raising his head slightly to look at her with undisguised curiosity. She hadn't given Adam or Dan many details about that Friday night after they left the bar and she knew they sensed that they would be better off not asking. Her slightly distracted mood on Monday, which had become vaguely grumpy on Tuesday, and now outright surly on Wednesday, had more than alerted them to the fact that all was not well in her world.

Regan forced herself to take a breath and focus. She picked up the phone and started dialing the number that had become ingrained into her memory due to frequent bug reports and change requests from their client.

She's not going to call. Get over it.

*****

Thursday, May 16^th, 2:34 p.m.

Officer Melanie Raines sat quietly in the passenger seat of her patrol car; eyes focused on the passing sidewalks, mind a million miles away. She was frustrated with Regan O'Riley; for the countless time since the previous weekend, the redheaded programmer had hijacked her thoughts and thrown her emotional state into turmoil.

Though she'd been nearly consumed by thoughts of Regan for the past six days, she hadn't been able to bring herself to call her and she was starting to doubt that she ever would. The reluctance to pursue further contact was a familiar part of Mel's routine; however, the inexplicable feeling of emptiness elicited by the prospect of never speaking to Regan again was not. The warring of instinct and emotion had taken its toll on the dark-haired cop and she felt weary and beaten.

"If someone had asked me last week if it were possible for you to be any quieter, I'd have told them no way in hell," a deep voice startled her back to reality. "Apparently I'd have been wrong."

Mel blinked and turned her head to stare at her partner, meeting gentle brown eyes that glanced at her anxiously, and then back at the road. She managed a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," Peter Hansen said easily. "Just thought maybe you needed to talk about something." He chuckled at the reappearance of her typically guarded expression. "Or not."

Mel sighed. She knew he had been concerned about her, had sensed a change in her mood even before the events of the past weekend, and she appreciated his not-so-subtle efforts to talk to her about it. I know I've been acting fucked up for a while now. I've been feeling fucked up... I guess I can't blame him for noticing.

After all, she spent more time with Hansen than with anyone else in her life, a reality that hadn't seemed so depressing until just recently. Despite the fact that their relationship had always been politely distant, the way she preferred all of her relationships, there was an undercurrent of affection and deep loyalty that bound them together. She had been partnered with the older officer from the first week she'd been assigned to the Detroit Police Department's 14^th Precinct and while she had never socialized with the man outside of the job or even confided in him about the details of her life, she knew that he probably knew her as well as anybody did, maybe even more. Though he never pushed her very hard, she sensed that he knew a lot more about her than she would have liked.

"You know, Hansen, I've spent more time with you in the three years I've been on the force than I have with any one person in my life for nearly the past ten years." Mel was surprised that she was sharing this admission and wondered briefly where she was going to take this conversation.

Hansen looked over at her carefully. "Sounds lonely."

"No, it wasn't... I mean, it never felt lonely," Mel answered. She wondered if that was the truth.

"But it does now?"

"No, I... I mean..." Mel closed her eyes and sighed again. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Why maybe?" Hansen said. Mel grinned wryly as she considered that his responses seemed overly cautious, as if he was afraid that her sudden openness would dissipate at the wrong tone or inflection from him.

"I met this woman..." Mel wanted to slap her forehead the minute the words had left her mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? It wasn't that Hansen wasn't aware that she was a lesbian; she had told him in the beginning of their partnership after snapping at a couple of other cops who had been making homophobic jokes about the victim of a mugging, warning the older man that she wouldn't tolerate that shit from anyone, and adding that he could find a new partner if he had a problem with her. He had been surprised at her admission, and then a little chagrined that she would think that attitude from him, and though they'd since treated each other with utter mutual respect and compassion, she'd never spoken of her personal life in that way again. She wondered what his reaction would be to her bringing it up to him now.

Hansen laughed, a deep, sonorous rumble that surprised the somber woman beside him. "I should've guessed. Isn't it always a woman?"

They shared a rueful grin at that and then both fell silent again. Mel chewed on her lip, contemplating whether to keep talking or to shut the hell up already. What the hell do I have to lose, really?

"See, that's the thing," she started, choosing her words carefully, "it never really has been for me." Hansen glanced at her but kept quiet. "I don't generally become preoccupied with women. I mean, particular women. The truth is," she chuckled self-deprecatingly, "I'm not usually occupied with women for more than an evening or two."

"Ah," Hansen said. Mel waited for a moment and then realized that the older man wasn't going to say anything more. She turned to look out the window again and slouched a little further into her seat. So much for the heart-to-heart.

"You know what my favorite thing is?" Hansen asked suddenly, causing Mel to return her eyes to her partner and cock her head slightly.

"No," she answered truthfully. I hardly know anything about you, anything outside this car and the precinct and this miserable uniform.

"The way that my wife knows when I've had one of those days." Hansen looked over at Mel carefully. "Like a couple weeks ago, with that Rogers kid."

Mel sucked in an uneasy breath and forced herself not to react to the unwelcome memories Hansen's words provoked. She struggled to keep her face impassive as she was assaulted with images from that day; the seventeen-year-old kid laying on the hot, cracked sidewalk in a pool of his own blood and urine, an honor student in the wrong place at the wrong time, two months from high school graduation and the promise of a full-ride scholarship to the University of Michigan. Nathan Rogers's mother, shaking with hysterical sobs behind yellow police tape, there to watch her son being carried away by the ambulance with a sheet over his face because he was shot not thirty feet from the front door of his home. Mel wasn't able to suppress the shudder that ran through her body at the memory of those cries, at the senseless loss of potential and her feeling of empty impotence when all she could do was try and help clean up the mess.

Yes, that had been a bad day.

Mel was dimly aware that Hansen had continued talking. "Somehow she just knows, I don't know how, even if I don't say a word," he said quietly. "And she knows just what I need... to make me forget, to remind me of the good things. Even if it's just a cold beer waiting for me, or a story about something Katie learned at school that day, or a hug..." he trailed off then, sounding a little embarrassed.

"Yeah," Mel said.

"I guess all I'm trying to say is there's nothing wrong with wanting that," he continued. "I think everyone needs someone to remind them of the good things. Even you, Officer Hard-Ass."

Mel laughed a little and shook her head but said nothing more. She was done discussing it, exhausted from the turbulence of her emotions and unwilling to lose her composure while on the job. Hansen must have sensed that the subject was closed because he fell silent again for a moment. After their uncharacteristically open conversation, the silence no longer felt comfortable, as it normally did, and instead bore down upon them, making Mel feel close and cramped in the space of their car.

"So you taking the detective test soon?" Hansen asked in a lighter voice, his attempt to change the subject pitifully obvious. From one shitty topic to another, she thought, and shook her head.

"Not sure," she responded. She kept her answer brief and non-committal. There's no way I'm going there right now, not with him.

He snorted. "I remember the twenty-two year old kid who couldn't stop talking about making detective." She raised an eyebrow at him pointedly and he added, "When she talked, I mean." She smiled at that and he continued. "What's stopping you? I know Johnson's been encouraging you."

Lieutenant Johnson had made a point of asking her about her intentions concerning promotion during her last performance evaluation, now two months past. He had made it clear that he continued to be impressed with her performance and had hinted strongly to her that he thought she would make an excellent detective. Words that would have elated her three short years ago had then left her curiously empty and she found herself reluctant to seek the promotion she had once considered so important.

Rather than provide a serious answer and prolong a discussion she desperately didn't want to have, Mel winked at Hansen playfully. "Maybe I'm just not ready to leave you yet, Hansen."

"Can't say I blame ya," he snorted. A sudden noise from their radio ended their conversation, Hansen listening intently and then starting to drive to their next call. Mel leaned back against her seat and stared out at the passing buildings. Gratefully pushing thoughts of promotion out of her head, she willingly allowed herself to dwell once again on the redhead of whom her thoughts were both pleasant and terrifying.

Regan O'Riley, she thought a little wistfully, and exhaled, what am I going to do about you?

*****

7:02 p.m.

Seven o'clock Thursday night found Regan snickering triumphantly as she executed a perfect 1080 Swiss Cheese in what was quickly becoming a record-breaking game of ŒSSX' on her Playstation 2. Feet up, leaning back in her recliner, wrapped in a warm down comforter even as she enjoyed the cold chill of air-conditioning, she was the picture of hedonistic glee. Who needs sex when I have video games? She pulled off a 720 Tail Wag and pumped an exultant fist into the air. Keep thinking it and maybe some day you'll believe it.

Her suddenly ringing phone caused Regan to swivel her head in surprise and lose her concentration. Turning back to her television for a moment, she watched in horror as her digital snowboarder crashed into the ground face-first in a decidedly graceless landing. "Shit!"

Regan pulled herself into quick action and hurriedly paused her game while she stood up to half-vault/half-stumble over her couch to reach the phone, now on the fourth or fifth ring. Frantically, she grabbed the phone mere moments before her answering machine would have taken the call. "Hello?"

For a moment she heard only silence, then, "Regan?"

"Yes, this is Regan... I mean, I'm Regan," she felt flustered and desperately hoped that it wasn't obvious.

"Hey, this is Mel... um, from the straight bar," she added unnecessarily. "Did I interrupt you or some-?"

"Oh, no!" Regan nearly shouted, and then blushed as she realized that she had not only interrupted the cop, but had done so in a near-hysterical fashion. "No, I was just involved in a video game and it took me a little while to get to the phone." Why the hell am I always so honest about the embarrassing stuff? Jesus!

A warm chuckle floated into Regan's ear and wafted gently to her brain, instinctively causing her to relax a little. "Well, good. And you can stop blushing, I still think you're adorable." Regan grinned even as she disobeyed the voice and blushed a bit harder.

"What makes you think I'm blushing?" Regan teased, hoping she sounded cockier than she felt.

"They don't call them Œpowers of deduction' for nothing," Mel replied. "You always blush when you think you're talking about something nerdy."

Regan knew she was probably right and cursed herself for being so obviously insecure. "Yeah, well," she tried not to sound as embarrassed as she felt, "I've found that most adult women are not overly impressed by my geeky toys."

"Most adult women aren't nearly as interesting as you are. Or as smart." Mel suddenly sounded a little embarrassed. "I'm serious, I love computers. And I've been known to play video games occasionally, too, though I'm sure you could kick my sorry ass at almost anything."

Regan grinned, emboldened. " Almost anything?"

"Well, yeah," Mel answered seriously. "Nobody beats me at ŒTetris'".

Regan's grin grew exponentially larger. "Oh, that sounds like a challenge."

"Consider the gauntlet thrown," came the confident response. Regan laughed lightly and then leaned against the back of the couch.

"I wasn't sure you were going to call," she admitted. In fact, she had pretty much accepted that Mel wasn't going to call. She was overwhelmed by the sense of relief she now felt as she cradled the phone in her hand and listened to the dark-haired woman sigh softly.

"I wasn't sure I was going to call, either," Mel answered. "I'll be honest with you, I don't have a lot of experience with... this."

"With..." Regan prompted the cop gently.

"Calling women," she answered. "Really, with seeing women more than once. I know that sounds horrible, trust me."

"It doesn't sound horrible. It sounds honest." Regan sat down on the floor and rested against the back of the couch. "What made you decide to call me?"

Mel paused for a moment and Regan waited patiently for her response. She was quickly beginning to understand that her friend had a difficult time expressing certain things and had no desire to push her past her point of comfort.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." Mel's voice had a rough edge and her words stole Regan's breath for a moment with their honesty.

"You have no idea how relieved I am that it's mutual," Regan smiled, hoping her own openness would help put the dark-haired woman at ease. She heard a shaky exhalation of breath on the other end of the phone.

"Are you still interested in dinner?" Mel asked.

Is she crazy? "Yes," Regan answered happily.

"Great." Mel sounded a little relieved. "Am I a complete, last-minute jerk to ask you for tonight?"

"Yes," Regan said, and then giggled, "but tonight would be great, anyway." She heard a low chuckle and smiled harder in response.

"Well, unless you want to ride my bike again, we'd better meet someplace or you can come pick me up." Regan shuddered audibly at the memory of the motorcycle ride, eliciting an amused laugh from Mel.

"How about I pick you up? I'm hell with directions and I'll never find my way to an agreed-upon meeting place."

Mel snorted. "Then why do you think you can make it to my place?"

"Incentive," Regan replied. "Now give me the directions." Mel's answering laugh reminded her of just how attractive the incentive was.

CHAPTER THREE

Thursday, May 16^th, 8:28 p.m.

Mel couldn't help but smile as she sat across from Regan, who was chattering nervously at her in the most beguiling way. The redhead was dressed in slightly baggy cargo pants and an army green ringer t-shirt which proclaimed, "I Read Your E-Mail", and Mel found herself running an appraising eye over her small frame. Despite her anxiousness upon hanging up the phone to wait for Regan to come and pick her up at her apartment, she was now feeling strangely relaxed and pleased that she had finally given the programmer a call.

Mel suddenly realized that Regan had stopped talking and was instead sipping at her glass of water tentatively. "This is a really nice place," she offered, glancing around at the restaurant Regan had chosen. Small, quietly intimate and casual, the Italian restaurant seemed just the sort of place that the programmer would frequent.

Regan grinned. "I have an unhealthy addiction to their breadsticks."

"Ah," Mel teased gently, "So there was an ulterior motive to your suggestion? And here I thought that you were just trying to cater to my love of Italian food."

Regan's nose crinkled slightly as she directed a playful look at the cop. "Let's just say that I felt this could be a win-win situation." Mel reached over and impulsively caressed the redhead's cheek with the palm of her hand.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to call you," Mel said quietly. "I swear I must have taken your card out of my wallet a hundred times, looked at it, then put it away again. In fact," she added, looking up at Regan with a sheepish smile and dropping her hand to rest on the table, "I think you'll have to give me another one... I've nearly worn the first one out."

"You were nervous?" Regan asked incredulously. "To call me?"

Mel laughed shakily. "I'm still nervous." This is scaring the hell out of me.

Regan reached over to take Mel's hand that still lay on the table in front of her. "As a good friend of mine once said: ŒPlease don't be nervous.'" Mel chuckled as the words of her own confident reassurance of the weekend prior were repeated back to her.

"Friend, huh?" Mel cocked her head at the programmer, studying her verdant eyes carefully.

"I'd like to be," Regan said softly.

Their waiter suddenly returned to the table, offering Mel a chance to try and get a handle on her emotions. When she had called Regan to invite her to dinner, she wasn't sure what she had wanted to happen. She had spent the past week wrestling with her instincts, questioning her life, and trying to decide if she was strong enough to start changing her habits.

A lifestyle that had worked for so long had been feeling increasingly desolate and she felt so lost and cut adrift from any sense of stability or safety that she knew she was willing to look for anything to grab hold of, to try and pull herself out of the bleakness that was suffocating her. Despite her new awareness of her dissatisfaction with life as she was living it, knowledge is power only when it brings enlightenment, and she wasn't feeling very powerful. She was scared to seek Regan out in case her instincts backfired, but terrified that if she didn't she'd remain lost forever. Regan was the first person to penetrate her defenses since she'd left home. That has to mean something, right?

The waiter took their order and left, forcing Mel to gather her thoughts and continue the conversation. Strangely, she began to feel almost calm as she stared across at Regan, who was looking back at her with clear eyes full of compassion, and she was surprised by how easy it was to speak. "That was easy for me to say," she admitted, "I'm a lot less nervous in bars."

"I noticed," Regan teased, smiling at her warmly. "I can't say that I understand it, though. The more I talk with and get to know a person, the less nervous I become. Being surrounded by strangers kind of undoes me."

"I noticed, too," Mel replied, squeezing the hand she still held in her own. "I guess I feel more comfortable with strangers."

"But everyone needs friends." The confidence with which Regan made this statement caused Mel to stiffen slightly. She wondered why what was so patently obvious to Hansen and Regan had proven so elusive to her.

"I'll be honest with you... I don't really have any friends," Mel admitted, surprising herself with her candor.

"Well, you have one now," Regan said cautiously. Mel recognized the question in her statement and she paused only momentarily. It's now or never.

"Yeah, I guess I do." Mel swallowed a little and then took a drink from her water glass to wet her suddenly dry throat. Regan's answering smile helped to melt away most of her anxiety and she suddenly found herself grinning, feeling lighter than she could ever remember feeling. "So now that I have you, what will I do with you?"

Regan smirked at Mel's teasing remark and took a sip of her own water. "Whatever you want?" She managed to raise a lascivious eyebrow even as her face flushed.

Whoa, slow down there. Mel felt a hot flash of arousal flood her body and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Don't get ahead of yourself. She chuckled lightly and said, "Well, for starters... there was that little matter of ŒTetris'".

Regan brightened visibly at the mention of the video game and they launched immediately into a comfortable discussion on favorite classics. They were still debating the relative merits of ŒTetris' and ŒDr. Mario' when Mel spotted their waiter heading towards them with a basket of breadsticks.

"I think I see your fix," Mel teased, laughing as Regan turned her head to peer excitedly at the approaching food.

"Oh, happiness," Regan mumbled, her hand reaching to retrieve a hot breadstick instantly after the basket had been deposited on the table. Mel watched with amusement as the redhead took a healthy bite, closing her eyes and moaning contentedly as she chewed. Swallowing slowly, she murmured, "God, these are good."

Mel smirked and picked up a breadstick, raising a dark eyebrow at Regan before taking an experimental bite. She chewed a moment and sighed softly. "You're right. These should be illegal. You have to promise not to bring me here too often or you'll be rolling me out of here." Mel realized the implication of her statement and tensed a bit, watching Regan's eyes carefully, then relaxing as she saw warm excitement in them.

"I promise," Regan replied happily. "Besides, I have plenty of other vices I can introduce you to."

"I'm counting on it," Mel said.

Regan chewed for another moment before looking curiously at Mel. "I have to admit that I'm surprised you like video games."

Mel laughed sheepishly. "And I have to admit that my motives haven't always been pure. My favorite bar in college had a ŒTetris' arcade game and I found that being the constant high score had a strangely aphrodisiacal quality on women."

"Man, you'll have to show me where that bar is," Regan sighed.

Mel chuckled and poked at Regan's arm amiably. "Nah," she smiled. "I'm not going to toss a total babe with your gaming prowess to those wolves. I'd rather keep you to myself."

Regan smiled self-consciously. "Total babe, huh?"

"Totally," Mel affirmed. She leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. This isn't so hard.

"So where did you go to college?" Regan asked after a moment.

"Michigan State," Mel answered. She paused for a moment as their meals arrived, staring wordlessly at Regan, who stared back warmly. When they were alone again, Mel picked up her fork to stab a meatball that was resting atop her plate of spaghetti. "I went on a softball scholarship."

Regan cackled gleefully, mischief glowing in her green eyes. "Not a Spartan!" she bemoaned playfully. "We're rivals!"

Mel grinned across the table. "U of M, huh?" Regan nodded and smiled around a mouthful of pasta. "I won't hold it against you."

Regan sputtered slightly, her overreaction causing Mel to snort in response. "Hold it against me?" Mel winked at the redhead and continued chewing her spaghetti.

"So what did you study?" Regan asked after she had calmed down a little.

"Besides women, you mean?"

Regan leaned back and assessed Mel with an amused expression. "Yes, besides women."

"Criminology." Mel reflected for a moment on how strange it was to be talking about herself with another person. Not bad, necessarily, but different. She felt vaguely uncomfortable about her increasing feeling of exposure, but she also felt energized, alive. It had been so long since she'd sought real connection with another human being that it all felt vaguely surreal; an adrenaline-charged, visceral event that thrilled her and terrified her in equal part.

"I should have known that, I guess," Regan remarked. "Did you grow up in Michigan?"

"No. I was born in Oklahoma. I came to Michigan to go to school and then joined the department in Detroit when I graduated." Mel didn't offer anything more; unsure of how much she wanted to tell the programmer about herself so soon.

"Did you know people out here or something?" Regan asked.

"Not really," Mel said. "I mean, Jane, my roommate... from the bar the other night, but... we don't really talk much since college."

"What about your family?"

"What about them?" Mel asked, unhappy at the direction their conversation was taking. She could feel her familiar defenses stirring and tried to remain calm and open. She's just being polite.

Regan seemed unaware of the cop's sudden guardedness and continued her innocent questioning. "I mean, are you close to them? Were they upset when you moved out here?"

"Not really," Mel answered. "I have a brother, Michael... we're not very close. My dad and I... we... well, we don't get along." Mel took a long drink of water before speaking again. "And my mom died when I was eight."

"Oh," Regan whispered, looking down at her plate awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

Mel held her face rigid. "It was a long time ago." She sighed as she saw Regan's contrite expression. Great, let's see if I can scare her off in record time. Desperate to lighten the mood, she said, "So what did you study at Michigan? Computer science?"

Regan looked up at Mel with a sheepish grin. "Ironically, women's studies." She took another bite of her dinner, visibly relaxing as the discomfort of the previous moments left them. "I say Œironically' because, unlike you, I didn't actually spend a lot of time studying women in college."

"No?" Mel asked, fully aware of the flirtatious tone she'd taken. "I'll bet they were studying you."

Regan snorted softly and stared at Mel with warm eyes. "Seriously, where have you been hiding all this time? And is everyone this charming where you come from?"

Mel winked and took a sip of water. She found herself growing more and more at ease with the programmer, comforted by their easy familiarity, and she felt herself regaining some of the confidence that she normally possessed with women.

"Oklahomans are not necessarily known for their charm, no," Mel teased. "I guess you just hit the jackpot when you found me."

"I guess so," Regan agreed. She leaned back in her chair and gazed affectionately at the dark-haired cop.

"So," Mel said. "You majored in women's studies and became a software developer. How does that happen?"

Regan rolled her eyes a little and smiled. "The major was a rebellion against my parents, I think, and the career is a concession to the real world."

"What did your parents want you to do?" Mel asked lightly. She could sympathize with the concept of parental expectation; however, she had never sought to escape it. Mel had spent nearly her whole life attempting to meet expectations, almost the same amount of time her father had spent making it clear that she was constantly falling short.

Regan shrugged a little. "Something lucrative, I guess. Something respectable."

"Nothing specific?" Mel questioned.

"I don't think they cared to think about my life deeply enough to get specific with their expectations," Regan said, and the barely veiled bitterness in her voice shocked Mel. This was the first time she had seen the programmer seem anything but happy and she wondered if her relationship with her parents was still a problem in her life.

"I can't imagine that's true," Mel said softly, reaching out again to touch Regan's skin, the soft palm of her hand. She found herself wanting to touch the redhead almost constantly, every word or action from Regan loosing her hands, drawing them instinctively to the pale, warm skin that both calmed and inflamed her.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not very close with my parents, either. They live in Chicago... I don't see them very often." Regan's fingers curled around Mel's hand where it lay in her palm. The redhead stared down at their hands, pale pink skin contrasting with Mel's darker olive complexion, and smiled shyly. "I mean... they're good parents and everything. I always had everything I wanted... well, except tuition after I declared my major... I just... they're really distant. They don't really know me, and I don't really think they want to." Regan's eyes saddened as she made this admission and Mel tightened her grip on the smaller hand in her own.

"That's their loss, then," Mel declared, "because I think you're fantastic."

Regan smiled up at Mel then, her eyes bright with emotion, and impulsively leaned across the table to plant a chaste kiss on Mel's cheek. "Thanks," Regan whispered as she withdrew, and Mel had to close her eyes as her body shivered in reaction to the soft breath that caressed her face.

Opening them again, she cleared her throat and struggled to maintain some semblance of the stoicism that she normally wore like a mask. Mel exhaled a little shakily and managed a shy smile. Over three years on the force, seeing the things I've seen, and what finally undoes me is a 5'3" self-professed computer nerd. "So your parents actually stopped paying for your school over women's studies?" There, I can do this.

Regan snorted a little and winked at the dark-haired woman. "Sort of. My dad threatened me with my tuition to try and make me see his point of view. That pissed me off, so I called him on it. I told him that he could have his tuition, and I'd have my women's studies degree."

"Wow," Mel said. She felt herself gain a new respect for her friend. "Just like that?"

"Well," Regan leaned across the table conspiratorially, "it wasn't as ballsy as it sounds. Remember I told you that I wrote shareware programs to pay my way through school?"

"Yeah," Mel responded.

"I'd actually just completed a pet project of mine a couple of months before my little Œdisagreement' with my parents. I'd released it as shareware for fun, you know, to see if anyone would like it... and by the time my father threatened me, I'd already made a couple thousand dollars." Regan shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Hell, I had just started receiving payments and they were coming in fast. I figured if I was careful and saved what I made, I could at least pay for the rest of the school year."

"I bet your dad was surprised," Mel remarked, feeling thoroughly impressed with the redhead.

"Oh my God, you don't even know," Regan laughed. "Once he realized that I was challenging him, he couldn't back down. I couldn't, either. I'm pretty sure he was convinced that I'd come running back to him, begging for forgiveness and help after a few months. I don't think he's ever quite gotten over the fact that I didn't need them anymore, that they didn't have a say anymore."

"God," Mel said, picking up a breadstick and taking a careful bite, "that's pretty impressive... writing software that earned you a couple thousand dollars is a big deal, isn't it?"

"Seventy-five thousand dollars," Regan mumbled, suddenly blushing and looking sheepishly at her now-empty plate. "All told."

Mel nearly choked on her breadstick. "What? Holy shit!" The flustered cop frantically lifted a glass of water to her lips and took a long swallow. After she assured herself that she could, in fact, breathe, she looked over at Regan and stared wide-eyed at the redhead, who was giggling awkwardly at Mel's histrionics. "Seventy-five thousand?"

Regan shrugged again. "It was pretty successful. I even released a couple of later versions."

"Wow," Mel said again. God, she's amazing. "What the hell did you write?"

Regan blushed bright red and Mel couldn't stop the slow grin that grew on her face as she realized that the programmer was embarrassed by her question. "Um," Regan mumbled, and Mel leaned over to poke her in the arm.

"Tell me," Mel commanded in her very best Œinterrogatory voice'. She smirked at Regan's coy grin. "Now."

"Well, this was back before all the peer-to-peer stuff they have today and, well, you know, the Internet wasn't nearly as easy to navigate, so there was a certain... demand..."

Mel put her free hand on Regan's arm and squeezed gently. "Regan," she prompted, grinning and ducking her head to capture the redhead's gaze.

"I called it PornSpider," Regan admitted with a wry chuckle. "It was basically a big old porn search engine." Mel laughed loudly at that and then clapped a hand over her mouth to quiet her guffaws. Regan scowled good-naturedly before sticking her tongue out at the still-snickering cop.

"I'm sorry, I..." Mel giggled. She waved her hand to indicate that Regan should keep talking.

"So anyway," Regan continued, raising her voice on the second word and looking at Mel pointedly, "it was just a little application that let you search the Internet for pictures and videos based on keywords and stuff. Had a built-in media player to display what it found... it was pretty popular for the lazy porn connoisseur. Not bad for its day, if I do say so myself."

Mel raised a dark eyebrow in amusement. "My, my, dear Regan, and I thought you said you weren't studying women in college."

"Not real ones," Regan grumbled.

"None?" Mel asked, changing the subject once again. "Like I said, I find that hard to believe."

"Well, one," Regan admitted. "I had my first and only relationship during my junior year. Sarah. We lasted about a year, parted as friends."

"And since then?" Mel asked carefully. She didn't want Regan to feel like she was prying, but she also wanted to know everything she could about the programmer.

Regan bit her lower lip and flashed a self-deprecating smile across the table. "Not much to talk about. No relationships, a couple casual things. Honestly, despite my porn industry ties, I'm pretty boring."

"I doubt that," Mel drawled. "The boring part, I mean."

"And what about you?" Regan asked, becoming bolder as she challenged the other woman. "How many women have you seduced with that Oklahoma charm?"

Mel could feel her face flood with heat, a decidedly unfamiliar sensation. Why the hell am I blushing? Mel wondered. "Um..."

"Don't worry, you've already made your player status quite clear. I'm just wondering how intimidated I should be." Regan's tone was joking, but Mel could read the underlying anxiety in her words.

"Regan," Mel said seriously, "there's no reason for you to ever be intimidated by me. I may have... slept with a lot of women, but there are plenty of things I don't have experience with." She paused, looking down as she realized just how intimate their conversation had become once again. "Honestly, I should be intimidated by you."

Regan gave a surprised laugh. "Me?"

"Yeah, I mean," Mel traced a pattern on the tablecloth with a shaking finger, "I've never actually had experience with relationships or stuff like that. I... I don't actually even know how to be in a relationship." Mel looked up at Regan then, searching her eyes for a reaction to her admission.

Regan smiled, an expression that started at her mouth and traveled all the way to her green eyes, which sparkled with warmth as a result. "I'll teach you if you'll teach me."

Mel felt familiar panic start to rise at the words, an instinctive reaction from years of shutting herself off from everyone and everything around her. Regan frowned a little and reached over to stroke Mel's arm. "Tell me what you're afraid of."

"I don't know," Mel mumbled. "Doing something wrong. Disappointing people." She looked up at Regan's face. "Getting hurt."

Regan sat silently for a moment and squeezed Mel's hand. "I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," she admitted. "I don't know what will happen, honestly. All I know is that you've yet to do anything wrong, and I can't imagine anything about you that would disappoint me... and I promise to do my best never to hurt you."

Mel felt her eyes suddenly flood with tears and she cursed softly, wiping at traitorous blue orbs with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she said with a sharp laugh, "you must think I'm insane."

"Not at all," Regan said. "I think you're wonderful."

Mel released a shaky sigh and smiled at the redhead across from her. "My God, you're brave," she remarked. Regan looked startled by the comment. "Standing up to your parents, choosing your own path despite the consequences, risking your emotions by being open with people."

"Shaddup," Regan muttered softly, never looking away from Mel's earnest face.

"I'm serious, Regan." Mel said. "You impress the hell out of me."

Regan looked as if she wasn't sure what to say for a moment, both pleased and embarrassed, until she brightened visibly. "Wait a second... don't think you're getting out of it that easy!"

"What?" Mel asked, truly puzzled. She tried to remember what she might be getting out of.

"You never answered me when I asked how many women you've been with," Regan reminded, eyes twinkling. "And now I'm dying of curiosity." When Mel hesitated, Regan pleaded with her, "Oh, come on... I told you about me."

"I didn't get a number," Mel grumbled, already doing mental calculations in an attempt to produce the answer she was honestly unable to give.

"Three," Regan answered easily. "Now you."

Jesus, Mel thought, three? Just when I'm feeling like a complete harlot, she's got to make it worse. "I don't know," she admitted sheepishly. "Sixty? Seventy?" Quickly, she added, "I've always been safe."

It was Regan's turn to sputter in disbelief. "Holy moly!"

"Holy moly?" Mel interrupted, laughing. "Did you just say Œholy moly'?"

Regan arched an eyebrow in her direction. "Yes, holy moly! You're a veritable strumpet!" A wide grin accompanied the gently teasing words and Mel felt her body relax as she realized that Regan didn't seem put-off by her revelation. In fact, she looked downright amused.

"Yeah, well," Mel said, "strumpethood isn't all it's cracked up to be." Regan rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm serious!" Mel continued, "It gets boring after, oh, number fifty or sixty." She winked at the programmer, who stuck out her tongue in response.

"My poor baby," Regan said, in what Mel thought was a decidedly coquettish voice. "I guess I'll have to be sure to make life interesting for you again, won't I?"

Mel was silent for a moment before she reached up to tuck an errant lock of curly auburn hair behind a perfect ear. "I'd say you're off to a really good start." And how.

*****

10:47 p.m.

Regan glanced surreptitiously over at her passenger, who was concentrating hard on examining every CD in Regan's truck, and hoped again that Mel wasn't noticing that she had intentionally gotten herself "lost" in a desperate attempt to prolong what had been a wonderful evening. Twice.

"What the hell is this?" Mel suddenly demanded, holding up a CD with two fingers as if it was going to contaminate her. Regan craned her head slightly to read the front.

"The Spice Girls!" Regan exclaimed, ignoring Mel's snicker and the dark head that shook back and forth in mock pity. "It's a classic. Put it down if you can't appreciate it." The redhead stuck out a defiant tongue at Mel.

"Classic, huh?" Mel quickly set the offending CD back inside the small plastic crate that was nestled between their seats. "Let me just return it from whence it came, and we can forget that this little episode ever happened." Regan grinned as Mel abandoned her perusal of the discs and reached over to lay a warm hand on the programmer's thigh.

"So I'm forgiven?" Regan asked. Her thigh was squeezed gently in response.

"Oh, you know I just think it's adorable, anyway," Mel said seriously. The dark-haired woman leaned back in her seat and sighed. "Just like I think it's adorable that you keep driving us around in circles."

Oops. "Oh, uh..." Regan suddenly felt embarrassed. "I mean..."

"I don't want this evening to end, either," Mel admitted, removing her hand from Regan's thigh and reaching up to stroke a pale cheek.

"Does it have to?" Regan asked quietly. Suddenly nervous, she avoided looking at the beautiful woman beside her. God, I'm not used to this assertiveness stuff.

Mel was silent a moment and Regan started to wonder if she'd misread the cop's feelings. She had been sure that the intense sexual energy between them, present since their first night at the bar, had only grown and deepened with their intimate exploration of one another. Casual, lingering touches had been traded back and forth all evening and Regan felt nearly dizzy from her heady arousal... and she had assumed that Mel felt the same.

When Mel spoke, she sounded a little hesitant. "I want to say that it doesn't, but I... I think it does."

"Oh," Regan said. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she stopped, unsure of what to say. I'm so fucking embarrassed.

"Regan-" Mel's voice was tentative and Regan stared straight ahead, unable to look at the dark-haired woman. The programmer felt relieved when she realized that they were less than a mile from Mel's apartment. Maybe I just wasn't intended for human interaction.

"I understand," Regan interrupted, hoping she sounded more understanding than she felt. "You don't have to say anything."

Regan turned onto Mel's street and quickly maneuvered her pickup truck into the half-full parking lot where she'd sat and worked up her courage for the evening only hours before. She pulled into a space near Mel's door and put her truck into park, letting the engine run. Still she refused to meet blue eyes, her uncertainty over where she stood with their owner nearly paralyzing her.

"Regan," Mel said in a slightly pleading voice, "look at me."

With effort Regan took a breath and turned to look at her passenger. The gaze she met was so full of affection, warmth, and, unless she was mistaken, lust, that she immediately relaxed. Stop being so oversensitive. She smiled - shy, tentative, but genuine - at Mel.

"Regan," Mel said again, "you know I'm attracted to you, right?" Regan shrugged a little, uncomfortable with the question, and Mel gave her a pointed look. "Well, I hope you know that I'm attracted to you, or else I'm worse at this dating thing than I thought."

Regan grinned. "Yeah, I know you are," she admitted. I knew that. Yeah.

"I just..." Mel continued, "I don't think I'm ready yet. I don't want my body to make promises that I'm not sure I can keep."

"I'm not asking for promises," Regan responded. "And I'm not saying that to try and convince you to spend the night with me, but I just want you to know... it wouldn't have to be a promise."

Mel stared at the redhead for a moment. "But it would be," she said quietly. "I care about you... and I haven't made love with anyone I cared about... in a long time. So it's going to be a kind of promise for me." Mel looked down at her feet shyly. "And I kind of hope for you, too."

Regan suddenly felt ashamed for reacting so badly to Mel's caution. She knew that the intimacy that they'd been sharing was frighteningly new for Mel; the last thing she wanted to do was push her too fast. "I'm sorry," Regan said seriously. "I really do understand. I'm just feeling a little insecure. And I want for it to mean something, too... for us to mean something."

Mel smiled gratefully and leaned forward to wrap Regan in a tight embrace. "That doesn't mean I don't expect a goodnight kiss," she whispered next to the redhead's earlobe. Regan shivered at the warm breath and pulled back a little, gasping.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she admitted, and then leaned forward to kiss Mel. Hard.

The passion of the kiss seemed to surprise Mel for a moment, but the dark-haired woman recovered quickly to return the gesture with equal vigor. After a few minutes they broke apart, both women flushed and gasping for breath.

"I need to get out of this truck before I throw you down and take you right here," Mel panted. She fumbled blindly for the door, eyes dazed and face flushed with arousal.

Regan groaned and let her eyes slip shut at the image Mel's comment created in her mind. "Please don't say stuff like that to me when I'm in this condition. I won't be responsible for my actions."

"Moan like that again and I won't be responsible for mine," came the response. Mel was still struggling to find the door handle, unable to tear her eyes away from Regan for even a moment to locate the elusive instrument.

Regan suddenly sat up a little straighter in her seat and flashed an impish smile at the flustered cop. Frantic movement slowed, and then stilled, as Mel arched a dark eyebrow at the mischievous green eyes that regarded her intently. "Don't even think about it," Mel growled, the mirth in her eyes belying the threat of her words.

The redhead only grinned harder and then, suddenly serious, leaned back and rested her head against her seat. Green eyes slowly slipped shut and full lips parted slightly to allow a languorous moan to escape. Regan had only to wait a few moments before warm lips sought her out again, and gentle hands, and once more she was lost in sensation and heat. All too quickly it was over, her lower lip tugged slightly before Mel drew back, leaving her gasping and wanting for more.

"Serves you right," Mel's voice was rough. "That was just mean." Regan opened her eyes to see Mel staring at her and she grinned sheepishly in response.

"You're right," Regan admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," Mel said, and leaned over to smooth down auburn curls that were remarkably tousled. "Some day, very soon, I will have my revenge."

"Now am I supposed to be frightened or aroused by that statement? Because if you're looking to instill fear in me, I don't think it worked." Regan reached out to trace Mel's brow, which shifted under her hand as a wide smile transformed the dark-haired woman's face.

"Goodnight, Regan," was her only response. Mel picked up a small hand and pressed her lips against the knuckles. "I had a wonderful time. Thank you."

"Me, too," Regan murmured. "And you, too."

Mel turned and successfully opened the door, easily hopping out of the truck and turning to face the programmer, who was staring after her. Reaching into her jeans and withdrawing a battered leather wallet, Mel searched for a moment before extracting a white card, and reached out to offer it to the other woman. Regan took the card without looking at it, instead meeting the steady blue eyes that studied her silently. Apparently satisfied by what she'd seen, Mel cocked her head slightly to the side and sighed.

"God, you're lovely," the cop whispered, a declaration which left Regan momentarily speechless. The redhead was still struggling for words when the truck door was closed; abandoning her efforts, she watched Mel walk away and shook her head in amazement.

I could fall in love with her. Easily.

Continued in Part 2.