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Dawn
Author: Pixie Rating: PG Classification: Vignette Wordcount: 1,100 Disclaimer: They're not mine, and I promise to put them back where I found them when I'm finished playing with them. Author's Note: Mattie and Webb have a frustrating habit of muddying the waters, so for purposes of this fic, let's pretend they don't exist. Summary: Sequel to Midnight Confessions. If you thought that one was fluffy, well...it didn't come close to this one. Download the File:
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It was early yet, barely past sunrise, and she knew Harm wouldn't be up this early if he could help it. Today was Saturday, and she suspected that his alarm clock probably wasn't set, in which case he'd most likely sleep late. She stood up and folded the blanket, then wrapped her arms around both it and the pillow and tiptoed across the apartment and into his room. She studiously avoided looking toward the bed as she eased the closet open and tucked the items away on a shelf, but as she closed the door, it creaked, startling her and causing her to turn her head sharply to see if she'd woken him up. Then she grinned. She needn't have worried. He didn't so much as twitch. Mac was a compact sleeper. She spent most nights curled on her side, knees drawn up, hands tucked under her chin, and, barring any nightmares, barely had to straighten the covers in the morning. Harm, on the other hand, was a sprawler. Even now he lay at an odd angle across the bed, arms and legs flung every which way like so many pick-up sticks. He slept with just a light sheet covering him, another contrast to Mac's own preference for fluffy comforters and hand made quilts. This morning, thanks to much night time twisting and turning, the sheet had come loose from the foot of the bed, and was now draped haphazardly across his lower body, leaving both toes and torso exposed. Mac's shiver had a dual cause. First came the "Oh my he must be freezing" shiver. Then came the "No man has a right to be that sexy" shiver. If pressed, she would swear to the world that her motives in reaching to adjust the sheet were purely altruistic. In reality, she did it in the futile hope that by covering him, she could halt the wayward direction of her thoughts. She managed to drag the sheet over his feet, then turned to pull the other end up over his chest. A gentle tug freed the edge from its prison beneath him, and she eased it up, partly pleased with herself at her success, partly wishing it had been harder so she would have had an excuse to leave him as he was. She was so intent on her task that she jumped when his hand closed around her wrist. She snapped her head around. He was watching her, his expression quiet and intense. "What are you doing?" His sleep rough voice sent another shiver up her spine. "Umm…You looked cold." "Uh huh." He didn't look convinced, so she tried again. "…and you were all tangled up in the sheet." "I see." "I was just trying to help." Her words tumbled over each other, and one corner of his mouth twitched. "Considerate of you." "I'll, um, leave you now. You can go back to sleep. I know my way out." His grip tightened. "No." "Excuse me?" She tried to look indignant, but failed miserably because the heat snaking through her body right now had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with the feel of his fingers against her skin. "I heard what you said last night." He'd heard her? The man must be related to Clark Kent! But then again, maybe she'd misunderstood. Maybe he'd been referring to the case they'd been working on. "About the Blakely case? I really think we should talk to Sturgis about a plea on that one." "Mac…" How did he manage to turn a single syllable word into the sexiest three syllable word she'd ever heard? "What?" She tried for innocence. "I wasn't referring to the Blakely case." "Oh?" Stall. Pray for a miracle. "No. I was thinking about something you said after that." "Oh." It looked like this wasn't going to be her morning for miracles. Abruptly, she decided that the best defense in this case might be a good offense. "You said it first." Great. Now she sounded like a five year old arguing on the playground, but she was beyond caring. "I know." That voice of his could've saved the Titanic, melting the iceberg to so many gallons of water in the space of a few seconds. "Oh. Um…" Good going, genius. Brilliant comeback. "Did you mean it?" Sheesh. The man wasn't pulling any punches. Dare she tell him the truth and leap into freefall? Or should she step back from the edge and play it safe. It was a conundrum, to be sure. "Mac?" "Yes?" "I did." His voice took on that note of sincerity she'd heard in the courtroom when he was absolutely dead certain he was right about something. "You did …what?" she asked, stalling again. She gulped for air and had the fleeting thought that she must look a bit like a landed fish. "I meant what I said." "Oh." He didn't say anything else, just watched her the way an ornithologist might study a particularly fascinating bird. She considered her options again. To leap, or not to leap…that is the question. Abruptly, she made up her mind. Eight years of being safe had gotten her nowhere. Time to try freefall. "I meant it, too." A swift tug with one hand, accompanied by a gentle push at her hip with the other, and suddenly she was looking up at him instead of down, and her hand was resting against the bare skin of his back while her heart tried to leap right out of her chest. She gulped it down and smiled. "You're pretty spry for an old guy." "I can be when I'm motivated." His lips hovered mere inches above hers, and she struggled to appear nonchalant even as her traitorous body reacted. "I see. And you're motivated now?" "Mac. I haven't been this motivated about anything in years." "Then what are you waiting for?" She hooked a hand around his neck and tugged him down to her, pleased when he offered no resistance. He kissed her then, and one by one the synapses in her brain shorted out until there was only Harm, and Mac, and eight long years of catching up to do.
Beauty and the Beast Collection
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