He hadn't answered his phone for at least forty minutes. It was that - and the fact half the department still wanted him behind bars (and a good portion wouldn't mind seeing him dead) - that had her standing at his front door pounding on it mightily with her woefully small fist. It wasn't that she was worried about him – or that she cared - of that she was fairly certain. Her determined grumbling under her breath only served to further convince herself and reinforce those thoughts.

Then she had found Crews' door locked, ratcheting her annoyance tinged fear up to previous unknown levels.

Crews never locked doors. Only his heart was locked away, only his truths secured; all that was important, hidden behind pale blue eyes that sent chills through her when he canted them a particular way and fixed his gaze upon her, but never hidden behind locks you could open with something as provincial as a key.

Just as her fist was becoming numb and she prepared to switch hands, shoot the lock or perhaps slink around the back looking for an open door or window, she heard the lock action. Tumblers spinning and the knob twisting, until it revealed a wet, very scantily dressed and flushed Charlie Crews.

She was speechless for a moment as she took him in, helpless against her own traitorous wandering gaze. He stood before her wet from head to toe, entirely unclothed and shod - save for a pair of hastily donned and damp Levi's 501 button-fly blue jeans that clung to his body in interesting places. They were buttoned only twice and slunk low on his hips, revealing far more than they should.

The lattice work of scars covering his chest caused a sharp intake of air from his partner as she imagined the cuts and stabs that put them there and how he'd managed to survive all that. The dusting of red hairs that trailed from his chest to his navel and into the unbuttoned fly of his jeans captured her attention almost as completely as the water dripping from his red hair down his freckled forehead.

He wiped at his face with his left hand and flicked the water off his flexible fingers while licking the moisture from his lips. An odd expression crossed his face just a moment before he posed her name and question, "Reese? Is there a fire?"

She stared at him a moment longer, unable to help her appreciation of the long lines of his lean body. He was muscled without being muscular, belying his strength. His sinewy arms and chest retreated to a narrow waist and those tantalizingly jeans drew her attention once more before her head snapped up realizing it was inappropriate to ogle her partner like he was a Chippendale's dancer.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" she snapped angrily, storming past him.

Her embarrassment at the bemused smirk he wore when she turned around multiplied her anger tenfold.

He didn't reply and it was then that she became very uncomfortable. She flushed furiously and wanted to be somewhere else so badly she blinked and wished it, but she opened her eyes he was still standing there in his sizable bare feet dripping wet and smiling mischievously. Her brain flashed to a comparison Karen Davis once made about the size of a man's feet and his other features and she scrubbed her face in annoyance.

"When you don't answer your phone I think something might have happened to you?" she confessed but held onto her anger.

"That would mean you care..." he offered gingerly.

"I don't," she reinforced strongly, "so don't flatter yourself." Her affect said anything but that; however Reese steadfastly held onto the shield of her lie and braced it against the onslaught of his smile.

"I wasn't aware we were on duty," he queried curiously. "I have a life, you know?"

That seemed to perplex Reese. As she turned the idea over in her head, Crews continued to wipe at his body ineffectually with his bare hand and when he looked up he saw her examining him clinically, "I was in the shower," he explained.

"For forty minutes?" she shot back irritation apparent in her voice, "that's how long I've been calling you."

"Well…before that I was doing something that made me need a shower," his tone was coy and the smile was in both his voice and his eyes that twinkled at her with beads of water in his lashes. Her ire simply glanced off his Zen shield as he toyed with her.

The look that crossed Reese's face spoke of annoyance with a sprinkling of jealousy.

"Do you have company?" She couldn't help the contempt that crept into her voice. She'd worried about him and he'd been getting laid, great! She thought.

Charlie watched the wonderfully complex expressions behind Reese's eyes for a long moment before he relented and gave her the truth. She was right he marveled, he could be cruel sometimes as he let her twist on the horns of her dilemma and erotic imaginings. He thought it was unfair when she'd said it, but he realized that watching her squirm was something he rather enjoyed.

"Meditating," he said softly and was rewarded with a Reese patented eye roll.

He waited a second and then helped her out of her distraction by buttoning up his pants and tugging them up to his waist. He looked down and gave her a sly smile. "It's harder than people think, you know?" he teased with a double entendre, "meditating," he explained.

"Mind if I grab a towel?" he shook his head showering them both with water.

He was certain she blushed, but her averted eyes told him his barb struck home. He picked a very deliberate path across the wet marble of his foyer having nearly killed himself getting to the door. He wondered why he'd been in such a hurry to get there when he'd known it was her. No one could pound on a door quite like Dani Reese. Exasperation seemed to leech through her hands and into the surface of the door, rubbing even wood the wrong way.

As he carefully crossed the marble to climb his stairs, he realized his haste was because he didn't want her to give up and go away. He wanted to…no, needed to see her. Her wondered if her approach to everything was so complete. Reese was a force of nature - one that he wanted to experience no matter what harm it might do to him. She was like standing in the face of a fierce wind hearkening the arrival of a big storm; she amazed him. He was in no small way in awe of his young partner, who was tiny, but quite fierce and not ever to be underestimated.

She wholly occupied his thoughts as he'd hastily tugged on his jeans over wet thighs, struggling with the dense denim. He wanted to see her flushed face, those dark, intense, narrowed eyes, the tight lips drawn in ire or exasperation at him. She felt for him and that meant something; a line had been crossed that day in the orange grove. She now felt more than harsh moods, she harbored genuine concern for him and that was truly wonderful. The sensation of being able to provoke concern from his reticent little partner was exhilarating.

"Don't go away," he threw back over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs cautiously, "I'll be right back." He was rewarded with the heavy sigh of her frustration, which made him smile. He imagined that sigh issued in closer quarters from a different kind of frustration and the sound of it warmed him.

In truth, Charlie knew he'd been thinking about his pushy little partner in a non-platonic way for a bit longer than he'd admit to himself, but it wasn't until she left to work at the FBI he realized just how attached to her he'd become. Small, dark haired women, particularly those with ponytails frequently drew his attention. He found that Reese was making appearances in his dreams several nights a week….and not in ways he'd imagined Reese before. The sound of her voice through the phone made his day, even the sound of her annoyed sigh made him happier than it should have. And she'd obviously thought about him – even Tidwell remarked on it and not without a fair amount of disgust.

He wondered why she'd been looking for him the entire time that he dried himself and dressed. It was obviously not a case. If it had been she wouldn't have tolerated his toying with her. Reese was all business when it came to work. He thought about this while he selected a light sweater that clung to his chest and a pair of fresh, dry jeans from his wardrobe. He liberally applied his cologne; towel dried his hair and slipped on some sneakers before descending the stairs to investigate the appearance of his partner.

She was pacing in between the foyer and kitchen and talking to herself. He noticed her muttering as he quietly descended the stairs. Her voice carried in the house due to the openness and lack of furniture. She was still annoyed but more at herself it seemed than him. She announced she had to go as soon as she saw him.

He stepped into her path and stopped her, his body like unto a brick wall she would not attempt to blow past him. "You came all the way up here," his voice deepened, "and now you're just going to leave? Without telling me why?"

"It's not important," she dismissed his question.

This time he sighed. "We've already established that if you say it's not important then it absolutely is," he looked expectantly at her. "Why did you call me for forty minutes? What did you want to say?"

She bit her bottom lip and made a half-hearted attempt to reach the door.

"Et…" he scolded and used his arms to hold her. He was amazed by her reaction because he never actually touched her, but she backed of anyway. "I'm not going to hurt you," the pain in his voice bled through as he interpreted her actions as fear.

"I know that," she barked.

"Then why are you running from me?" he inquired stepping closer.

She closed her eyes and again chewed on her bottom lip, "I just…" She opened her eyes again as the scent of his cologne let her know he was close, too close. She placed a hand in the middle of his chest and he felt her tremble.

He covered her hand with his larger warm one, "Dani," he beckoned using the magic of her given name to create more

intimacy.

"Don't say that," her harsh whisper responded, "don't call me that."

"That's your name," he offered gently.

"You don't call me that," she fought back but dropped her head. All her non-verbals accepted defeat, but he wanted to know what she was surrendering to.

"Why'd you come here? Why won't you look at me?" he pushed and she didn't retreat. She looked up at him and the look in her eyes took his breath away. "Dani…please," he pled and stepped closer.

"You smell so good," the words tumbled from her lips; he wasn't even sure they she knew they'd escaped her. Her shoulders sagged in a sign of defeat, "I can't even remember why I called, why I came…" she confessed quietly. "I can't stop thinking about you…" her admission was brought to a halt by his soft kiss.

"Shhh," he urged as his hand found her cheek and stroked back her hair, "Dani," he murmured across her cheek as he touched his lips to her temple and caressed her face. Her breath hitched as he dipped closer and came tantalizingly close to drinking from her waiting lips. She licked them in anticipation as her hand coiled around the sweater under the palm. He feinted and then withdrew and her eyes flew open in surprise. He wanted to see into their liquid depths as he smiled and sank to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth and he gathered her tightly against his chest.

Their hands began to move of their own accord, sweeping away clothes and their passion built until she cried out from need and his groan filled the air. "I want you so bad," he professed.

"Crews," she chided desperately, "Crews…"

He withdrew, forcing her to look at him, "Not Crews - Charlie," he directed.

She shook her head no and kissed his neck seeking a return to their furious heat.

He roughly ran his hand into her hair and forced her to look at him, "Say my name," he demanded. "I wanna know that it's me your with, not your partner."

The look she gave him was quizzical, "But you are my partner," her exasperation seeped through her sigh.

"No," he pronounced solidly. "I am your lover, your mate, your husband… someday, but I am not your partner. You are not Reese. I am not Crews. You are Dani and I am…"

"Charlie," she finished for him and his lips crashed into hers with her surrender.

She was his, and he hers and that was what he wanted.