Author's Note: I don't own these lovely characters.

Thank you for reading.

A woman knows when a man is attracted to her. She can sense it in a glint of the eye or a nuance of the voice. She can feel it in the graze of his touch or simply by the way he leans towards her. It's a secret communication –a vibe, if you will– because before becoming lovers, their souls have already mated.

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss suspected that he was attracted to her. She knew it because she was a a behavioral analyst for the FBI. Even more, she knew it because she was a woman. But could she be one hundred percent sure?

Unfortunately, not. There was room for doubt when it came to the carefully guarded S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner. Sometimes she thought she detected a longing in his glance or heard a confession in his words. But she could never truly hang on to the moment. Either he would make it disappear with the strength of his iron will, or it hadn't really happened at all. And that's what Emily was afraid of: that she was making it up. Like this morning.

Her com set failed in the field. Perhaps the battery died or its useful life depleted. Either way, Emily had not realized that she was out of the communications loop. With curiosity she watched Hotch sprint to her surveillance SUV. He nearly tore the door off its hinges.

"What the hell, Hotch?" she started, worried that he had blown her cover. But then she saw sheer panic in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he almost begged.

"Of course, I'm okay," she snapped. "Why wouldn't I be?"

And then it was over. The fear, the worry, the panic –it was all gone. He was Agent Hotchner again, cold and calculated, precise to an almost pathological degree.

"Your com isn't working," he explained matter-of-factly, holstering his weapon.

"It's not?" she asked sheepishly.

"Nope. I'll go get you a new one. And Emily? Don't be such a smart ass." And before she could answer, he closed the door.

Emily smiled at the memory. He had called her by her first name. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it felt special. And he had been worried sick about her. A warm, fuzzy feeling was filling her heart when her sensible side woke up. Of course, he was worried. They weren't exactly at a theme park; they were hunting a serial killer. Hotch would have been just as worried about any other team member.

"Prentiss, did you hear a word I said?" he now asked with an amused expression that seemed to ask Agent Prentiss distracted?

"I'm sorry," she laughed, realizing that she had been staring at him the whole time her brain had taken her on that little escapade. "I can't say that I did."

He smiled as well, beautiful dimples making him glow. It was a good thing Aaron Hotchner didn't often smile because each time he did, the earth stopped turning, or at least in Emily's mind it did.

"I said that you can join the team if you'd like. I'll take care of your file."

"Oh, thanks," she said warmly. She appreciated the offer. Surveillance involved more paperwork than usual. So she was stuck with the Unit Chief at the Dalton Police Station when the rest of the team was across the street at Lucy's Diner grabbing a quick bite before departure time. "I'd really like that."

The raven haired beauty stood up and stretched her limbs. It had been a long, long day. Suddenly, she felt his eyes on her body. She knew he watched her; she could always sense it. But she could never quite catch him in the act. She was determined to catch him now.

Emily looked him steadily in the eye and asked, "Is it just me, or is it warm in here?" She cringed at having used a cliché, but decided to follow through. She unbuttoned her jacket and shrugged out of it. Her undershirt was a common white t-shirt, but it hugged her chest in all the right places. She usually wore another blouse over that t-shirt, but it was mid-summer in the Deep South, too hot for additional layers of clothing.

Okay, so Hotch was looking. What did that prove? That he was a heterosexual male in his prime. He probably would have looked if it was J.J. or Penelope.

Hotch held her gaze briefly, then returned to his file. The clearing of his throat was the only indication of being a little nervous, or did he simply need to clear his throat? "Yes, well, I think maintenance turned off the air conditioning unit at midnight."

Infuriating man! It was as if he had a shield with which he could deflect all her fire arrows. Unless he wasn't actually interested… Emily was decidedly frustrated at her inability to read him.

"Prentiss, is there something else you needed?" he inquired when she didn't move.

"Um, no." She grabbed her purse and made to leave. "You know what, Hotch? Why don't you come with me? Let's eat." And before he could answer, she added, "Something really hot and greasy. Then I'll help you with your files on the jet."

He wanted to accept her invitation, but he was debating it. Finally he smiled, "Something hot and greasy, huh?"

"Yeah," she smiled back. "And loaded with calories."

He gathered the files, including hers, and stuffed them in his suitcase. Then he donned his suit and accompanied her across the street. And Emily couldn't help but wonder: Did he come to enjoy my company, or is he just hungry? Infuriating man!

A penny for your thoughts: Is Hotch attracted to her or not?