Chapter 2~

Jo knew if she turned, and looked at him, their eyes would meet. If their eyes met, he would come over to her. If he came over to her, he would smile. If he smiled, she would smile back. He would be charming. She would be awkward and uncertain. He would get a little anxious. Which would make her anxious. More anxious. More likely to stick her foot in it again.

Jo could still hear the hurt in his voice, from earlier that day. She'd said something panicky and mean in the stress of the moment. He'd recoiled instantly, demanding to know, "why you gotta be like that?"

She didn't want to hear that hurt again, knowing she had caused it. Which was yet another reason to end all the emotionally confusing sex business. A spark, no matter how hot, was no reason to drag out the inevitable crash and burn. Not the friendship, she insisted to herself. Just the sex. And the sex was, after all, just sex. Just really fantastic sex. No love. See? No hurt. Easy, right? She would just explain it to him, carefully and thoroughly, and he would agree that she was right.

Then Zane would be safe. Her job would be safe. GD safe. Eureka safe. Everybody safe. Easy.

The sign Zane was waiting for arrived, as it so often did with Jo, suddenly. She spun on her stool, leaned her elbows back against the counter, swung one leg across the other, and met his eyes. She raised her brow and asked, "Tired of staring?"

"Not really," he replied, a faintly sheepish grin tugging at his mouth.

She snorted quietly, then nodded at the empty seat next to her. "Well, when you are."

He wasted no time in accepting the invitation. He had no idea why she'd decided to stop ignoring him. He was very glad she had, of course. Now he had a chance to engage his own preemptive measures.

"Hey," he said, taking the seat.

"Hi," she replied, spinning back around, her eyes seeking safety in the wall again, gearing up to begin. She'd thought she might have a few more minutes to get her words in order. His sudden move left her tongue-tied.

Allies, Zane had decided. That was the strategy. Put them on the same team, not opposite sides. Get her home, naked, in bed. Then later, when she was relaxed and getting sleepy, they could, he hoped, have a short conversation about work related information sharing. As in. All of it. Always.

"So. What did you tell Carter about us?"

"About what?" she turned to look at him, startled by his question.

"About us?" he said, gesturing between them. "I need to know. So we can keep our stories straight."

"Stories! We have no stories!" she exclaimed.

"Ah," he nodded sagely. "Truth then?"

Jo glared at him. "I told him it was over. Between you and me. That last night was it. That it was out of my system."

"Hmm." He raised his brow in faux consideration. Situational deafness was definitely another one of his go-to tactics. It'd been working really well for weeks. She'd announce she was done, curiosity satisfied, no more sex. Friends, no benefits from here on out. He'd ignore her words, pay attention to her flushed cheeks and hot eyes, and decide to assume they were still on. He hadn't been wrong yet. And right now? Flushed cheeks and hot eyes. "So you're planning on sneaking in again tonight."

"No!" Jo felt the ground tilting under feet. This was not going how she planned. Never went as she planned. Not that she'd had a very much of a plan. Stick to your guns was a great theory. So was 'explain yourself.' But both were a little short on actual step-by-step instructions. A little short on ways to keep her pulse from speeding up or her glance from dropping to his mouth. Ways to keep from thinking about the feel of his hands on her skin. She'd blown it every day this week, for fuck's sake. What on earth had made her think this was going to work now? "No!" she insisted, again. She couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes.

"Hey. Whatever." He said. "The whole teenagers-hiding-from-dad thing has a certain appeal. I get that."

"I'm not sneaking in." She tried to sound firm. Instead she sounded exactly like a high school girl being teased by her boyfriend. How the hell did he do that to her?

Job. She needed to concentrate on her job.

"You're spending the whole night with me?" Zane grinned happily at her, knowing full well it wasn't what she'd meant, but he was charging through whatever door she opened. "I'd like that." He sincerely would. The nearly dying part of the day had reminded him, in case he needed any reminding, that time was precious and that he shouldn't waste any of it.

"Zane!"

"Okay." He shrugged, "I can come home with you, but I overheard Vince and it sounds like Carter's got the whole Blake clan over right now. My place will be quieter. And more private." He fixed his expression into one of thoughtful consideration. "I think you should come home with me."

"This morning was it," she hissed. "It is over."

He leaned closer, getting well inside her space, to murmur, "I definitely do not recall you throwing me out of bed this morning. In fact, what I do recall is your very firm request that I not stop…"

"Okay," Jo interrupted him, a blush heating her cheeks, warmth blossoming somewhere below her belly. "Yes. I remember." She did. Vividly. Damn him.

"Did he ask how long we've been sneaking around?" Zane asked, returning to a safer distance. To Jo's relief.

Jo looked everywhere but at him. Was it just instinct, or something more that made him zero in on her weakest points, time and time again?

"Ah," he said, understanding immediately. "What did you tell him?"

Her voice was dry and a bit choked and she didn't look up from her hands, even as she shrugged, a failed attempt at casual unconcern. "You know. Five or six weeks."

"That is… a really interesting way of counting to eight."

"Eight!"

"Eight."

"No way."

Zane caught sight of Holly Marten and Isaac Parish, who had just entered the restaurant. Allies in his cause. Not that they knew that, but who cared? "Holly!" he called loudly, spinning on his stool to face her, "How long have you been in Eureka? Lupo and I have a bet going."

"Seven weeks, five days." Holly replied promptly. "Oh, and twelve hours," she looked at her watch, "thirty…seven minutes." Then she smiled brightly, looking back and forth between them. "Who won?"

Zane grinned triumphantly. "I won."

"What did you win?" Holly asked, all eager curiosity.

Zane turned to look at Jo, taking no small delight in her obvious frustration. Whatever the game, Lupo really hated losing. "That's up to Lupo, here." His tone and expression were as gleefully insinuating as he could make them. Which was a lot. He had been practicing most of his life.

"Oh." Holly looked doubtful. She was sure she'd missed something. Security Chief Lupo and Zane Donovan had a really intense relationship. Even Holly could sense that. She was just never sure if they were going to yell at each other or have sex. Or yell at each other and then have sex. She liked to be sure. Ambiguity made her nervous. They made her nervous.

Her companion, Isaac Parish, hadn't missed anything at all. Unlike many physical scientists he was more than capable of accurately interpreting human interactions. He just didn't care. For a while now he had suspected that Donovan and the Enforcer were quietly banging away. For the better part of two years the man had a steady parade of new women dropping by Parish's lab whenever he had a project there. They carried coffee in their hands and invitations in their eyes. But for months now, the only woman who came by was Lupo. That her hands were usually empty and her eyes often full of irritation didn't change the facts on the ground. But they hadn't made it his business or interfered with his work, so he was happy to ignore their personal lives as thoroughly as they ignored his. He cleared his throat and gently steered Holly away to a booth on the other side of the room.

Zane leaned into Jo and dropped his voice, "What do I win?"

Jo sighed deeply. Hoping it camouflaged the faint shudder that rocked through her when he accidently on purpose, damn him, leaned against her shoulder as he whispered in her ear. Her fingers itched to seize his shirt and pull him close so she could kiss him. He wasn't dead. He wasn't blown to bits.

Maybe Jack was actually right, this time, she thought. Just be in the moment. God knew it was what she really wanted to do. Be with Zane. No labels. Then they could talk about the job. How to handle it. That might even be easier and more productive than her repeatedly announcing an end she couldn't stick and him learning to ignore her declarations in favor of welcoming her kisses. "Fine. But…"

He interrupted her before she could continue. "Good. We do need to talk. But other things first, yeah?"

She turned her head to look at him, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. His face and voice were serious, his eyes firmly on hers and not dropping to her lips at all. If he hadn't still been leaning against her, his shoulder warm and strong and so very, very present, she might have wondered if she were dreaming. Would this actually work? Talking about how their professional lives intersected?

God she had been so stupid today, when she didn't tell him all she saw on the PALS, and then told him she didn't care. It was mean and hurtful and not even true. "Right. I'm sorry."

He closed his hand over hers, stilling her nervous fingers. "I'm glad, but that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

She looked confused. Because she was Jo and she hated being confused, she also looked faintly irritated. So he explained quickly, "We both have jobs to do at GD. And we need to work together to do them well."

Jo was too astonished to make a sound.

"But, in the meantime," he rushed on, "I won! I also saved your life. So we have celebrating to do first," he grinned.

Jo recovered instantly, as he'd hoped she would. "I saved your life before you saved mine! Everyone's life, actually!" she declared, her spine snapping straight and her eyes shinning with indignation.

He grinned easily at her, pretty sure now that his plan was going to work.

They continued to squabble gently about who was more responsible for saving the other while they waited for their orders. They were still squabbling when they left a few minutes later, take out boxes in hand.

They seemed to be quite unaware of the number of eyes that followed their progress. Including those of the owner of Café Diem.

Vincent shook his head as he watched them go. He'd considered putting their meals in single box. To put them on notice. They were observed. Their secrets were less secret by the day. Practically by the hour.

He dithered too long and his nerve failed him. But now he watched as Zane held the door for her with one shoulder, his other hand moving to the middle of Lupo's back, to usher her through. Vincent noticed, because he was an observant sort of man, that Lupo didn't even loose a beat. Still talking, still walking. No glaring, no tasing, no outrage. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for Zane Donovan to put a possessive, sheltering, guiding hand on the small of Jo Lupo's back. For him to take the outside of the sidewalk as they passed by the windows. To behave, in short, like a man courting a woman who welcomed his attention.

Next time, Vincent thought. One box. Definitely.

Author's Note: This series of tags has been an opportunity to play around with a number of different things, including POV and voice. I wrote Variations in first person, Zane, which was great fun. For this story, I decided to try third person omniscient - for the first time in a long time. This was also fun, but much harder. I hope it works for you! In that spirit of experimentation, the next one is just PWP. Smut. That's all. So it will have a rating of M.