A/N: I just wanted to leave a quick note to say how much I've enjoyed this challenge. Your kind reviews have meant the world to me - thank you all for reading!

Cal spotted Gillian out of the corner of his eye, looking lovely as ever and carrying two ridiculously oversized mugs in her hands. He smiled, expecting her to meet his gaze and breeze right through the door like she normally would, but she didn't.

Not this time.

This time, she stopped a few paces away from the entrance and shifted her weight from foot to foot, as if she were waiting on something. And it struck him as odd, because it wasn't like she needed an invitation. Not now, and not ever. Open door policy, and all that.

She looked tense. Timid. And even though it was barely noticeable – and anyone else in the world surely would have missed it entirely – he saw her hesitation loud and clear. He watched the way she took a tiny step backwards before crossing the threshold. The way she chewed on the corner of her lower lip and then glanced off to the side, just to see if anyone else in the hallway had caught her. He saw the way she glanced down at herself self-consciously, looking for whatever crazy imperfection she'd feared would be there.

It seemed utterly out of character for her, especially in light of the way things were changing between them. Less than forty eight hours earlier, his infamous 'frostbite' comment had told her – in no uncertain terms – that he existed in a perpetual state of "horny" whenever she was around. What on Earth would make her feel shy now?

No, no… forty eight hours had given her plenty of time to run, and he was quite sure that she'd been flattered by his admission. That it had thrilled her, more than just a little bit. And that she'd almost leaned in and kissed him at least four times since then. Four. He was counting.

So far, so good. They'd replaced baby steps with normal ones, added in a heavy dose of innuendo for good measure, and considering that he'd been a royal coward for the better part of a decade, he thought they were making pretty good time. Going from zero to full-blown, 'there's-no-point-in-denying-it-any-longer-you-big-plonker' sexual tension in forty eight hours seemed lightning fast by comparison.

It was almost too good to be true.

Cal closed his laptop and sat back in his chair, happy just to have a moment to watch her from a distance. Pink dress… loosely curled hair… and that gold bracelet he'd given her for her birthday last year, which he knew she only wore when she was feeling sentimental or insecure, or…

Uh oh.

Maybe it all really was too good to be true?

In a single breath, Cal's imagination began spinning out of control, thereby dragging him to at least a dozen different conclusions before Gillian even walked through the door. Maybe this was the big brush-off, then? Maybe she was about to walk in there and tell him that he'd pushed things too far? That he was a giant arse, or that she wasn't ready, or…

Pulse now pounding and throat suddenly dry, he chanced another glance in her direction and was surprised to catch her watching him in much the same way that he'd been watching her. She was looking at him so intently, in fact, that he had to consciously remind himself to breathe.

Then again… maybe all those cold showers he'd been taking had permanently frozen some of his brain cells. Because clearly, he was an idiot. And clearly, Gillian was not about to walk in the room, hand him a giant mug of something (dear lord, don't let it be chocolate), and tell him to piss off.

It wasn't her style.

With that thought, his wary expression met her newly confidant one and she smirked at him as she strode toward his desk. "Relax, Cal – yours isn't chocolate."

Simultaneously grinning and wanting to kick himself for having such a massive overreaction, Cal blinked up at her and finally let out the breath he hadn't meant to hold. Relief, in one fell swoop.

"Hate to tell you this, darling, but if you've suddenly developed the ability to read my mind, then I think we're both in big trouble."

Gillian's smirk softened a bit, and it changed the shape of her mouth in a way that made his stomach tighten automatically. He wondered if she did it intentionally, or if she was really just that good.

"That bad, huh?" she teased. "Can't say I'm too surprised, but I do appreciate the warning."

Still grinning, he decided to be deliberately coy just to see if she'd do that thing with her lips again. "Bad, love? No, not exactly. Vivid and colorful, on the other hand? Abso-bloody-lutely."

And there it was – the payoff he'd been hoping to find. It seemed Gillian's lips had a mind of their own; he watched them shift from a smirk, to amusement… to finally just a hint of exasperation (that one was perhaps his favorite), all in the span of a microsecond. He loved those lips. Wanted to see what other emotions he could get them to express, if given the opportunity.

"Vivid and colorful are my middle names, Gill," he added, just because he could. And just because he wanted to tease her right back.

Matching his mischievous expression with one of her own as she handed him a mug, Gillian simply smiled and said, "I'll be sure to remember that the next time I'm looking for a little 'pick me up' that doesn't involve something I can pour into a cup."

There was something hidden in her statement, and they both knew it. But instead of calling attention to the obvious, Cal took his drink and eyed hers with curiosity. Cocoa, of course – complete with copious amounts of whipped cream and chocolate shavings swirled throughout. It was very 'Foster,' and he couldn't resist teasing her. "Yours come with a side of insulin, then?"

"Cute," she quipped. She settled herself on his sofa and motioned for him to join her. "We could always trade, you know? I'll take the English tea, and you can have my…"

"Stop right there," he interrupted. "Two sips of that ridiculous drink and I'll be in a sugar coma for the rest of the day. Much as I appreciate the offer, you will never catch my lips anywhere near whipped cream and cocoa, and that's a promise."

Gillian tapped her index finger against the rim of her mug as she smirked at him. She looked… like she was definitely up to something (a proverbial 'light bulb moment,' if he'd ever seen one), but he couldn't quite work out what it was. Or what that little gleam in her eye was really all about. But the thought soon died in his head as their conversation continued to flow, and before either of them realized how quickly the time had passed, their drinks were nearly dry.

And that's when it happened. He made an innocent, offhanded comment that wound up vaulting them so far ahead of the 'baby step' stage that he could barely see it in the distance anymore.

"Thank you, love – for the company and the caffeine," he said sincerely. "What more could a man want, yeah?"

He caught the barest trace of nervousness on her face and the faintest shade of blush on her cheeks just before she answered. It was an exact mirror of the look he'd seen earlier, before she walked through his door. And the image should have tipped him off that something was definitely…up, but it didn't. Not yet.

Gillian waited until he'd taken the last sip of his drink but before he swallowed it (bloody tricky, she was), then she placed one hand atop his knee and looked him dead in the eye. "What more could you want?" she paraphrased. "Well… probably nothing that I'd agree to do here in the office, but I bet that won't stop either of us from imagining the possibilities."

It took every ounce of self control in Cal's body not to choke on his tea, right then and there. He sputtered and coughed and pounded on his chest like a fool, and when his shocked expression met Gillian's timid one, he heard her breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief?

Now where in the world did that come from?

Cal was confused. There he sat, trying to look as composed as possible while wiping up the mess he'd made down the front of his shirt, and Gillian had gone quiet as a mouse. She was completely silent, though the expression she wore spoke volumes.

Yes, it was definitely relief. And it made him wonder just how long she'd been waiting to make that kind of comment. Made him wonder if the entire 'tea and cocoa' bit was just a means to an end.

Voice finally restored, Cal turned toward her with a suspicious smirk. "So that's your game then, is it? Ply me with tea and innuendo, just to watch me squirm? S'really not a fair fight, love."

She smirked right on back. "How so?"

"Because you're the resident vocal expert, Gill. You can read things from me even when I'm not trying to be obvious about it. I mean, if we're going to play this game – which, I must say, you are very bloody good at – then you could at least spot me a few points. Make it even, and all that."

She snickered at him, and then raised her hands in mock surrender. "You caught me, Cal. You've finally caught me. I'm a genuine tea and cocoa 'double agent,' out to bring you to your knees. And with chocolate shavings and whipped cream in my bag of tricks, I must admit, the possibilities do seem rather… dangerous."

Though he tried not to do it, a muffled growl came out of Cal's mouth automatically. He had no control over it at all. It was as if the woman had crawled around in his brain until she found all of his weaknesses, and then she just kept poking at them over and over again. A few more times, and she was likely to bite off more than she could chew.

"Two words, Gillian: Killing. Me," he said thickly. "There's only so much of… this… that a man like me can take before he just snaps."

And with that, she dropped her hand to his thigh and patted it firmly. "Well that's good," she answered. "In fact… it's exactly what I'm counting on."

Jaw, meet floor.

He was… stunned. Quite literally stunned. He couldn't speak, couldn't think, and could barely even breathe, thanks to what she'd just said. Cal Lightman – master of sexual innuendo and all things 'flirtatious' – had been knocked right on his arse in a single sentence. How did she do that, anyway?

More to the point, why in the world had she waited this long to start?

By the time he'd regained enough sense to close his mouth, Gillian had moved to the other side of the room. "Same time tomorrow work for you?" she asked.

And curse his muddled brain, he could not think of anything creative to say. Nothing at all. The best he could do (and he used the term 'best' loosely) was to look at her with darkened eyes and ask, "Already planning to play hooky again, I take it?"

Gillian tapped her mug with a manicured nail. "Preventative measures," she said. "With all those cold showers you've been taking, I figure this is the least I can do to warm you up. After all, I'd hate to hear that any of your… appendages… are out of commission."

She was gone a moment later, leaving him with his jaw hanging down to the desktop once again, and fire simmering directly below his waistline.

He wasn't sure where the hell that particular comment had come from, but he did know one thing: he definitely liked it.

He liked it very, very much.

True to her word, Gillian was back the following afternoon with two more mugs. Based on her expression alone, it was clear that she knew exactly what she was doing. She'd obviously known it all along, of course, but the timid expression Cal had briefly seen the day before was gone. She was teasing him… toying with him… and enjoying every single second, to the fullest extent.

Playing with fire, she was. And it was causing an immediate reaction in both his libido and his imagination.

"The sentiment still stands, Gill. "You are killing me."

Cal's voice sounded much thicker than he would've liked, and the words kept getting stuck in his throat in a tangle of accent and emotion. And while he looked just a touch self-conscious, Gillian seemed thrilled to know that she'd rattled him again.

The woman had apparently made it her mission in life to test the boundaries of his self-control.

For the most part, he could handle the smiling. Had no problems with the giggling. But the soft, pink blush that spread across her face each time she sipped from that ridiculously oversized mug? That was the kicker. It made him wonder what was really going on in that brilliant mind of hers, and exactly how long she'd been planning this whole scene.

Under his watchful eye, she sipped again. And right on cue – just as he'd known would happen – the heat rose in her face again, only this time… this time… she upped the ante.

Sip… blush… lick lips… cross legs.

That's right. She licked her lips and crossed her legs in the same bloody movement, and heaven help him, he actually groaned – because those legs in that dress were a dangerous combination, and they both knew it.

Whatever game she was playing, "brilliant" was clearly an understatement. And if she didn't get to the finish line soon, he'd either have to jump her or make a beeline for the men's room to relieve a little pressure.

In the end, the sound of Gillian's breathy laugh was what finally broke through his distraction. "You do realize you're staring, right?" she said smugly.

Yes. Yes, of course he did. And he knew he needed to say something – that he couldn't just sit there and keep right on staring at her for the rest of the day – but with every blood cell in his body currently being re-routed to his groin, the words that popped out of his mouth were nothing even close to what he wanted her to hear.

He wanted her to hear something that would let her know how beautiful she was, and how badly he wanted her, and how much he loved her. But what he actually said was pathetically simple.

"Good cocoa, is it?"

Trust him, if Cal could've gotten away with it, he would've rolled his eyes at himself for giving her such a massive, massive deflection. It was pathetic, really.

But before he had the chance to backpedal, she ran with it. "Good doesn't even begin to cover it," she said innocently.

Sip… blush… lick lips…

For a moment, he thought she was going to let it go… that she'd ignore his stupid comment, and let the conversation move along naturally. But then she crossed one long leg over the other, looked him right in the eye, and said – without so much as a hint of shyness in her voice - "It's very sweet, with just the right amount of spice to keep things… interesting."

And that's when he knew.

She didn't want to win the game.

She wanted him to play it with her.

Somewhere in the back of Cal's mind it occurred to him that even though he'd been a bloody fool for waiting this damned long to tell her how he felt, he was not about to let an opportunity like that get away. Not this time. Not when they both knew that she was practically offering herself to him on a silver platter. He was staring down the barrel of a textbook 'now or never' moment and he knew it. And as soon as his decision was made, the heat behind it reverberated all the way to his bones.

He chose 'now.'

"You still talking about the drink, Gill?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious.

Of course she wasn't.

Gillian eyed him slowly, up and down, and shifted in the seat so that her hemline rose the tiniest bit higher on her thighs. She was taunting him; carefully weighing her options before finally settling on an answer that would best fit the situation.

Finally finding one, her expression softened. "That depends entirely on you. Don't tell me you've already forgotten your promise?

Promise? What promise?

Cal's mind had gone blank. Trust him to get in over his head without even realizing what he'd done."'Fraid you'll have to refresh my memory, love," he answered.

Gillian took a deep breath and dropped her hand to his knee. And as soon as she made contact with his body, her entire face erupted into a warm smile. It was open and honest and so bloody brilliant that he couldn't help but return it, and that's when it hit him: he wasn't over his head at all. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

"You said – and I quote – 'You will never catch my lips anywhere near whipped cream and cocoa, and that's a promise.' And now the question is… are you willing to break it?"

Cal felt everything around him begin to slow down, and time seemed almost irrelevant because the only things he could see or feel all centered on Gillian. It was as if every thought that had popped into his brain since she walked into his office – with her cocoa and her long legs and her radiant beauty – were suddenly streamlined and magnified all at the same time. The emotion was stronger. The desire was deeper. And the risk? The risk he'd long been so afraid to take?

It was completely gone.

In fact, the only question he had now was why she'd used his silly little comment about a chocolate drink to bring them to this point. Leave it to Gillian Foster to let something as epically wonderful as what they were about to become center around dessert, of all things.

As if reading his mind, Gillian shrugged. "One of us needed to make a move, right? We couldn't stay in limbo forever, and well... you gave me an opening I just couldn't resist. The fact that it involved chocolate was just a bonus."

That promise he made? He would gladly break it a thousand times over.

Cal was the first one to move, and as soon as he did, the atmosphere between them shifted again. It became electric… felt alive. As if even the room itself knew what was about to happen and was standing right there on the sideline, cheering them on. His office. It was such a small space, but it held so much of their history. Seemed poetic, in a way.

Finally finding his voice, Cal smiled. "I couldn't have said it better myself, love."

Mere seconds away from kissing her, he slid his hands up to frame her face. He was caught somewhere between pulling her towards him and holding her still – not yet sure which one was the right decision – when her tentative voice threw him slightly off balance.

She looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes and softly asked, "Mind if I tell you a secret?"

He smiled, desperately wanting to kiss her but willing to wait until she was completely ready. He'd wait as long as it took. Nine years had nearly killed him, but a few more minutes seemed easily doable. "You can tell me anything, love, and so long as you don't make me leave this room before I've had the chance to kiss you properly, then I'll be a happy man."

Momentarily caught off guard by his honesty, Gillian blushed. "When I imagined… us," she started, unable to hide the tiny tremor in her voice that Cal instantly knew was from excitement, rather than fear. "…I never got this far. And it probably sounds silly, but I'm not quite sure what happens now."

The look in her eyes was an intoxicating mix of emotion, and it struck him that most other couples probably wouldn't be able to run the gamut so seamlessly. The changes kept making his head spin – in a good way, of course. It left him with little doubt that they'd be able to handle whatever might come their way in the future, so long as they were together.

Automatically adopting a gentle tone as he touched her, Cal stroked patient fingertips along the length of her jaw. "Well… what do you think will happen now?"

She leaned into his touch, gave a tiny sigh, and then said, "I think you're going to kiss me. And I know that I'm going to kiss you back."

Cal smiled. He felt the emotion between them shifting again, back to lighthearted humor. So far, so good.

"And after that, what do you want to happen?" he asked. Without intentionally planning it, he'd brought them full circle – back to when Gillian had used the same logic on him, just a few days earlier.

Not understanding his point, and not recognizing the reference, Gillian scrunched up her brows. "Want?" she repeated.

A true déjà vu moment, it was. He couldn't help but grin.

"Yes, Gillian, want. As in…" Cal stopped there, allowing all the breath in his body to come out in a single, deep sigh. He was grounding himself; focusing on the exact words he wanted to tell her, because it wasn't like they did this every day. Hell… it wasn't like he'd ever done this. Not really.

Baring his entire soul to the only woman he'd ever truly loved? No, that was a once in a lifetime kind of thing. And he intended to do it up right.

Gillian wanted to speak. She wanted to fill the silence that he'd created, and he knew that. He felt her body tensing – saw the anticipation flash across her face as she leaned closer to him and started to gesture between them – but he simply shook his head and brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips.

Not yet.

"Want," he repeated. "As in, if the idea of you and I finally being together makes you even a tenth as happy as it makes me – to the point that you want to shout it from the rooftops, and do all kinds of embarrassingly sappy things that will make everyone within earshot insist that we really ought to just "Get a room, already," then chances are you want this as much as I do, yeah?"

His hand had moved to her neck now, and his fingertips made slow, sweeping strokes against the length of it as he spoke. By the time he stopped talking and realized what he was doing – and how close he'd actually moved to her body in the process – the proximity made him shiver. It was excitement, personified.

"Cal, I…"

He still didn't let her speak.

"And just for the record, love? That whole 'get a room' thing I mentioned? It sounds like one hell of a plan. Top notch, really. Because I've waited almost nine years for this. I've wanted you, and I've wanted us, and bloody hell, there are things that should probably not be done in this office that really need be done soon. Preventative measures, as you so eloquently called them."

Cal wasn't sure there was a proper word to describe the sheer and utter happiness that shone from Gillian's eyes at the end of his impromptu little speech. She looked… absolutely radiant, in a way that made his whole heart happy.

For a man who had always struggled with words, it seemed he'd finally found the right ones.

Gillian covered his hand with hers and brought it to her lap – squeezing and stroking his fingers in a way that made his imagination begin to flare. "You are absolutely insane, do you know that?" she said.

Her tone was full of sweetness, and the lighthearted amusement in her eyes automatically widened his smile. '"Course I do, love. I've embraced it. Suggest you do the same, yeah?"

She giggled softly at him, just as he'd expected. "Embrace the crazy, then? That's your philosophy?"

"Says the woman who tried to seduce me with hot chocolate," he quipped. And when she giggled again a beat later, it made him think that he'd do or say just about anything to get to hear the sound of it for the rest of his life.

"Good lord, it sounds silly now, doesn't it?" she asked.

He knew she wasn't fishing for an answer, but wanted to give her one anyway. Just so that she really understood how he felt it. "Silly? No. "Bloody adorable? Absolutely," he offered. "And believe me when I tell you that even though the stuff normally doesn't appeal to me, the thought of kissing cocoa and whipped cream away from your skin is absolutely… appetizing."

With that, Gillian's body flew into action. They both knew exactly what was coming next – what her plan had been all along – but when she raised the mug to her lips and gazed at him over the rim, the finality of the moment took them both by surprise.

Scratch that.

Finality wasn't the right word at all, because this? It was just the beginning, really. And even though Cal could've easily taken the driver's seat in a thousand different ways, with a thousand different routes that each would've been wonderfully fulfilling, he didn't. This was Gillian's way, on Gillian's terms, and truth be told, he couldn't have asked for anything better.

Ever so slowly – and without breaking eye contact at all - Gillian finally took one last sip. Only this time, when she pulled the mug away with a contented sigh, she did not lick her lips. This time – just as he'd expected – a small sprinkling of chocolate and whipped cream dotted the corner of her mouth, just waiting to be kissed away.

Just waiting for his promise to be broken.

And at the sight of it, Cal groaned. He felt the timber of it radiate throughout his entire body – from the top of his head, all the way to the soles of his feet and back again, before it centered itself in his chest and flared in rhythm with the syncopation of his pulse.

"Cal…"

That was the only word she said. It was just a single syllable, but nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

With a gentle, reverent touch, his hands stroked along her jaw line before sliding higher, to tangle in the silky strands of her hair. And when he finally leaned forward – when he finally pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth and kissed away every drop of sugar that lingered there – the heat that flowed between them was positively vibrant.

Gillian was the first to move. Her arms slid upward, wrapping around his neck with ease as she angled closer to him. She was right there – in his arms, in his heart, and even though every single one of his senses was consumed by her, it still wasn't enough. But when he pulled back just a bit… just enough to gaze into her eyes and let her know what he was about to do… the emotion that reflected back at him caused the embers of long-smoldering desire to turn white hot in a single spark.

Love.

In the next breath, he twined his hands in her hair and gently pulled – crashing her lips against his in an age old dance they instantly mastered. They moved together, walking that perfect balance between desire and respect as they explored one another, and Cal felt a profound sense of relief that he would finally, finally be able to love her the way she truly deserved. With his entire heart, and with his entire self.

Once in a lifetime, indeed.

Moments later, when the need for air finally pulled them apart, Cal rested his forehead against hers with a satisfied sigh. Part of him wanted to tell her everything – how much he loved her, how much he'd always loved her, and how long he'd been waiting to take this step. But this was Gillian – his Gillian – and the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

She already knew how he felt. Truth be told, she'd probably always known it.

And as for the rest? All of the words, and the declarations, and the whispers of devotion that were right there, simmering just below the surface?

Trust her to read his mind once again.

With a sly grin that instantly had his body tightening against hers, Gillian simply said, "Pace yourself, Cal. It's taken us nine years to find our footing, but we can still take it one step at a time. Only now, the journey is a little bit more… colorful."

Unable to help himself, Cal lifted her chin with a single finger and dropped his lips against the warm skin of her throat in a string of tiny, soft kisses that left her breathless in his arms. "So I assume this means our afternoon tea and cocoa breaks are finished, then?" he asked.

Her reply came instantly, along with an expression that quickly threatened to break the final few strands of his resolve. "Definitely not," she said. "It just means that I'll have to be a little more creative about where I put the whipped cream from now on."

END