AN: Written for Tracia (Ilovetvalot), because she asked for a continuation of this story...Never thought in a million years I could write this, but I did...This pairing is starting to grow on me!...

Chapter One

It had been three weeks and four days since David Rossi had kissed her and declared his feelings for her in her office, something she had never expected.

Hell had been far more likely to freeze over.

Nevertheless, she was glowingly happy. She practically skipped into work every day. No one could doubt that she was in love. David was just as bad; he sang a few bars of Italian love songs into her voice mail and beamed with pleasure.

Most people were very happy for her and for David. However, there had been a few unkind and perverted comments: cuddling up to the boss, sleeping with the enemy...some snide people had actually asked if she was getting any.

Not to her face, of course.

People never walked up to Section Chief Erin Strauss and said things like that to her face. She was much lighter and less stringent now than she used to be, but she was still the would say that to her boyfriend—the reason FBI fraternization rules existed in the first place—but not her. He'd laugh about it, and probably answer so smoothly, the person wouldn't know what hit them.

Her boyfriend, she thought, and pulled a face. Lord, she disliked referring to David that way. They were far too mature for boyfriend/girlfriend status, far more worldly and jaded. Saying that he was her boyfriend made it sound like she was fifteen and with the varsity team captain, instead of a professional woman and a professional man in a relationship. However, she had to face facts: that's what they were—boyfriend and girlfriend. She couldn't say lover, because in answer to that question that was being whispered with snickers and jeers was simple.

She wasn't getting anyyet.

It wasn't that they weren't hot for each other—their kisses were off the Scoville chart when it came to heat—but they hadn't taken a further step. There were lots of reasons for it.

Perhaps it was because they hadn't seen each other that much. Even though it had been three weeks, David hadn't been in town; he'd been on cases. When he was in town, he spent a great majority of his time with her. He wined and dined her unlike she'd ever been before. The maitre'd's at great restaurants knew him by name and gave them great seats with spectacular views. They ordered the most delicious food, drank the finest wines, and then afterward, danced to jazz ensembles until midnight.

At the end of the evening, David was always a perfect gentleman. He was rather old fashioned when it came to dating. He picked her up at the door and returned her to said door, giving her heated and smoldering kisses that tasted far better than the food she'd consumed. Then he'd look at her, deep into her pale blue eyes with his omniscient gaze, and somehow see the truth she tried desperately to hide.

She was scared shitless to make love to him.

He wasn't angry at her. Instead, he was endearingly patient, never rushing her. He cupped her cheek, dropped another, lighter kiss on her lips, and would see himself off for the rest of the night. She knew he was as frustrated as she was, but he didn't seem angry at her at all. That didn't really matter; she was far more angry at herself.

She was a chicken. She hadn't had sex in ten years, hadn't wanted to have sex in ten years. Sex with Paul hadn't been that good, and it certainly hadn't been fantastic. It wasn't something she had missed...but she was certainly missing it now.

As Erin was getting ready for their date later that evening, she knew there was more to the problem. She stepped out of the shower and began to dry herself off, and then glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn't the cadet he'd first met years ago, young and full of passion. She had fire in her eyes, but now...it was different. She was mature, a mother with three adult children. She had a decent body—she could still pass the fitness tests at the FBI with flying colors—but she wasn't twenty or even thirty years old anymore.

To top that feeling off, David dated women of all ages. As a bestselling author with a thrilling mystique about him, women in their twenties and thirties threw themselves at him. She couldn't blame them. He was every bit as suave and handsome as his image, and his kindness—that unyielding compassion he kept hidden until one got to know him—made him even more irresistible. David's last girlfriend was thirty-six, and she hadn't been as young as any of the last three women he had dated.

Raising her arms over her head, she noticed that her breasts lifted just a tad. Maybe she should get a lift or something like that? Competing with women almost half her age was daunting for any woman, and even more so for someone like her—Ice Queen Strauss—someone whose ex had left her for a younger model.

Sighing, she reached for her bra and panties and began to dress. No matter what her thinking was, tonight was the night. She was done putting off the inevitable...and only hoped she could compete.

Dave had been looking forward to this date for four days, the entire time he'd been on a case in Boise. He had plans tonight: dinner at Chez Philippe, a nouveau French Restaurant with a terrific violinist, maybe a little dancing, and a lot of loving. Far more than what he had been getting so far. He was going to woo Erin off her feet—literally and figuratively.

Dave knew this was going to take a lot more finesse than he'd ever had to use before. Erin was skittish around him, afraid when he pushed the envelope further than she anticipated. He smiled to himself. This proved only one thing to him: the woman was still a pain in his backside half the time...and he loved her for it.

When it came to Erin Strauss, his emotions were on overdrive. She challenged him like no other woman ever had. Beneath that cool exterior raged a fire that could melt steel, and he couldn't wait to see her burn.

Slapping on some aftershave, he began to check his tie, when his cell phone rang. He picked it up and answered without looking at the caller ID. "Rossi."

"Hi, David. I...I need to cancel this evening," Erin said, sounding overly congested. "I'm not feeling well."

Tamping down his disappointment, he said, "Poor baby. I'll come over. I got a great chicken soup my Nonna Maria used to make...lots of garlic, clear you right up."

"No!" she said quickly, far too quickly for Dave's liking, and then began to cough. "I...don't want to give it to you."

"Erin..."

"I have to go," she said, and then the line went dead.

Dave stared at his reflection in the mirror and did not like what he saw. The man in the mirror knew the cool blonde he loved to butt heads with was trying to play him...

And then he smiled...

He was more than up for this game.