A Maybe Story … Maybe Barek and Logan had already met sixteen years ago when Mike was a Homicide 'D' in 27th Precinct, and both have since forgotten the incident.

A little break from the intensity of "A Shift of Axis".

Logan/Barek.

Who Won?

Copyright 2006 Penn O'Hara

K+

Usual disclaimers apply.

oOo

Sixteen years ago…

One couldn't deny the Yankees Stadium, fifteen minutes into the second innings of a season-closing baseball game, had an energy that caught you up, thrust your heart into your throat and buzzed your head, not matter whose team was winning.

But Carolyn Barek cringed when the man on her left, again dug her in the ribs as the Mets accomplished yet another home run. Fed up, she turned to her date, a co-worker at the NYPD and whom she'd been seeing spasmodically for a month when their work schedules permitted.

"Simon, would you mind swapping seats with me?" Carolyn spoke into his ear, just managing to get her message across the groans of the home crowd. "I'm sick of this guy winding me every time he leaves his seat in excitement."

Simon Grey checked out the size of her harasser and grimaced. "Sure thing, but you gotta be my character witness in court when I lay him on the ground."

Carolyn smiled, knowing he wasn't serious. Simon Grey was a great guy, well-liked at the station, but his strength lay in solving intellectual problems, not physical ones. They accomplished the swap swiftly before the spectators behind could complain about the loss of view. In her haste, she knocked the shoulder of the man who had been on Simon's right.

"I'm so sorry," she began, mortified she was as guilty as the man she was trying to avoid, "these seats really aren't big enough."

Laughing eyes checked her from top to toe in the time it took for her to catch a breath. A wide smiling mouth assured her there was no harm done, then the man turned back to the woman on his right and Carolyn was left staring at the back of his head, the smooth raven hair thick and tapering to V on his neck. Wide shoulders encased in a Yankees navy blue windcheater bent over the blonde with him as his date smoothed her hand across his neck and nestled her head into his shoulder.

The crowd roared and Carolyn broke her gaze from the stranger in time to see a fielder tag a runner before he made base.

"Poor Mike," the blonde laughed. "I assume that's bad for your team."

"Yeah, the Yankees aren't doin' too good," the stranger called Mike said and Carolyn liked the sound of his deep voice.

"Who are you rooting for?"

She jerked at that voice now in her ear, Mike's breath an almost physical touch. She turned to see him watching her, a dark eyebrow cocked, waiting for her answer.

"Home team. Always the home team," she said, pulling away slightly at his proximity. His self assurance was a little over the top, cocky and sure of his appeal, evidenced by the way he blithely struck up a conversation with her while already with a clinging date. "Keeps me out of the minority faction and out of trouble."

"You don't look like the type to take the safe road."

She wondered how he knew that and what he would think if she told him what she did for a living.

"Mike, honey?" Looking barely out of her teens, the blonde beside him squeezed his thigh, leaning forward to give Carolyn a puzzled look.

Carolyn was amused at her obvious jealousy. Despite Mike's dark good looks and lean height, she wasn't interested. Attracted to intellectual equals, she doubted Mike was up to her standard. His casual air and long limbs prompted her to consider him an outdoors type or sporting jock.

Still, she was more aware of him than she expected. The length of his thigh a mere finger span from hers, the breadth of his shoulder near her temple, his commanding profile compelling her to steal glances at him more often than was polite.

The stadium erupted with a roar and Mike punched a fist in the air, leaving his seat to join the crowd as they applauded a home run.

Carolyn's eyes were drawn to the tight denim of Mike's ass as he cheered with the rest of the spectators. Seconds passed as she appreciated the way his jeans molded strong legs until she noticed the blonde watching her, mouth drawn tight and eyes slitted in disapproval. The girl lifted a hand, grabbed Mike's waistband and tugged him back to his seat. Carolyn quickly turned her head away, embarrassed she'd been caught staring.

Pretending an interest in the game in the diamond below, Carolyn was conscious of the blonde talking to Mike, leaning into him, her hand back on his neck, obviously staking her claim.

"I'm surprised you find it tight." Mike's mouth at her ear sent a shiver down her spine and the blood rushing to her face. She squirmed in her seat, thanking God her olive complexion disguised the telltale blush.

She wouldn't, couldn't, look at him.

"I'm sorry. I…I…" How could she apologize for ogling him, and why would the blonde have told him?

"You being so dainty an' all," he ventured, voice low and intimate.

"I beg you pardon?" Carolyn looked round, confused.

"You said earlier," he reminded her with a slow smile, "that the seats weren't big enough."

His gaze swept her, blatantly suggestive, and Carolyn felt hot all over, firstly with pleasure at his interest, then annoyance that he was flirting with her while with another woman. Frowning, she let him see her contempt, disguising her own guilt at being attracted to a such a blatant womanizer.

"You gotta work on the frown," he said, his grin unabashed. "It spoils a beautiful face."

"Mike! They lost," the blonde whined into the collective groan of the crowd. "Your team lost. How pathetic. The other team slayed them."

"They did, Alicia, but I…" Mike turned back to Carolyn and winked. "I had a win."

oOo